Time

All Soul’s Day, has come to past,

just in time to remind at last,

we are very temporary here

snow has fallen early this year

So as the day brings us to see

The souls and saints among the trees

Symbols passing in nature agrees.

Copyrighted : CMM  2017

I remember the dirt drive laden in gravel just

off the main asphalt country road.

named after generations of people,

who came before me;

We called family.

I wonder how many trips were

taken in and out,

and for what reasons

as we came and went to this place;

we called home.

Generations of successors grounded

into the beginnings of a southern family.

Two world wars and aromas in the kitchen

with Sunday afternoon get-togethers;

everybody knew everybody

An echo of memories sounds into the tomorrows,

old becomes new and the new often forgetting

the once was, just off the gravel road

leading back to the circled drive grounded into a name;

for generations now forgotten.

©   CMM  2008

I talk myself into my run

one foot in front of the other

climbing upwards challenged

laboring a little

just enough to remind me

my humanness

I pass birds calling

aged trees standing still

among the wood line

while wild brown-eyed susans

wink in sway with a soft wind

a wind I need to release me

I do not stop until the trail ends

copyrighted:   2017 CMM 

I was born with a cowlick,

as they say in the South

It is nowhere related

to parts of a mouth.

If you looked real close

nothing laid down.

Hair stood up everywhere

even the crown

People would notice

then look away.

See only the  pretty girls

no cowlicks, got to stay.

But, even born with a cowlick

isn’t too bad.

Cause it won’t make you happy

and it won’t make you sad.

That’s got to come way deep inside

learning to take cowlicks  all in stride.

©   CMM   2012

Her soul needed refreshing 

she returned to the sea

when the waves came, her troubles leave

her hair played with the wind

her smile swept across her face

she felt the universe give back her grace

early morning from darkness to light

rise into colors of orange, pink, reds 

she nodded and watched, no words said

Her soul needed refreshing 

she returns always to the sea

where the waves come, her troubles leave 

Copyrighted:  2017 CMM

An hour of time,

a lifetime,

a pause,

a moment,

a second,

memories

measured,

by who

remembers

the times…

copyrighted by:  CMM  2017

Her face, was like a road map of all special places,

her eyes the ocean of knowledge and strength.

Yes, her words spilled out of time, joy and sorrow

asking for someone to listen, love and remember; she was here.

Copyrighted:  CMM  2017

3:00 a.m., the whistle blows hauntingly through a thick still night. 

I thought, how it is a reassuring sound from the past to the present,

Makes everything seem normal or at least safe as normal should feel.

The darkness allows you to pretend the sound is being made from anytime.

Time of the little brick house with wasp escaping through the stone fireplace.

Or, an infant crying to be fed and nurtured back to sleep.  

Or, the present time, the darkness allowed my thoughts to travel.

The sound allowed my mind to go on into the memories of any time before.

Sounding one last time, it disappears into nothingness and all is quiet.

Just the darkness. left from minutes past 3:00 a.m. 

Copyrighted:  2017 CMM

Before the pain,

there was laughter 

sharing of wits

the morning after 

before the pain 

there were smiles

all night conversations

lingering for a while

before the pain

she felt safe to know

he was  there

they would grow 

before the pain

all was everything

no needs 

before the pain 

Copyrighted:  2017 CMM