A Shiny Stone




I had been out hiking
Up in Happy Jack,
Walking and looking,
Just casually,
When I stopped at a little
pool in the creek.
It was like many other pools,
Not very wide,
And surely not deep.


As I stood and looked
Into the water so clear,
The sun's rays did hit
And illuminate
A little pebble lying there.
I picked it up and
It was so small and so round,
I held it to the sun
And saw that it was opaque.


I stuck it in my pocket,
As I usually do,
Then got a drink of water.
Then I wandered off,
And later, when my trousers
Were to be washed,
And the pockets were emptied,
There it was,
Along with six or seven more.




I lay them on my dresser
Along with the other junk
My pockets held,
And did not think about it,
For to me, just another
Pretty pebble it was.


But then one morning,
As my trousers I was changing,
I noticed this little pebble,
Still lying there.
I picked it up, and
You know what?
It shone like
A brand new copper penny.


I took it outside in the
Sunshine bright,
And looked at it,
And thought it
Was a nice little sight.
I got a magnifying glass
And held it up,
And looked at its insides.
And saw that a grain of sand,
Was in the middle of this little stone.




One grain of sand trapped
For eons of time.
And then I looked real close
And yes it was, to me
A shiny little pebble,
With a grain of its
Own history.


I took it to a jeweler
And had a clip put on
And bought a gold chain
To hang it on.
And when I met the one
Special lady of my life,
The little pebble
On the golden chain
I hung around her neck.
And it was,
Oh yes indeed it was
The smartest move
I ever made in my life.


For fifty years she wore
That little chain always,
And for fifty years,
We had a most
Fantastic life.
And when she passed away
And I kissed her
for the last time,
You know what I saw?
I saw that the little pebble had
Broken open
And released
Its single grain of sand.



Written in 2000






 

 




 

 
 

Walk With Pride




As I look at my life, a few things I have found.
I will never be a movie star, and in a limo ride.
Nor will I get to the moon, or into space go,


Rich and fame, I will not have,
and I will have to pay my own way,
anywhere I ever go.
I will have to stand in line, to await my turn,


I will the Congressional medal never win,
for that is the tops to me,
and in no big battles, other than my own
will I ever fight, for I have gone beyond.






And in the Olympics I will never compete,
never in my life, nor will I ever get
to climb the tallest heights.


So I guess in my golden years,
I will just take what comes, any way I can.
Take the good with the bad,
take what comes my way.


But a couple things I do know
and they are for damn sure.
I am a proud man, and I do stand up straight,
I have worked and striven for anything I do have,
nothing was given to me.






I have lived an active life,
and have a lot of things done,
and when my time does come,
one thing I do know.


I have been, and I have done,
and my life has not been fulfilled,
but I go with pride, and am proud
for all I have done.


So do not whimper, do not pule,
do not moue, but accept what you have done,
accept it with pride, and do hope
if there is another life, you can do more.



Written in 2001






 

 




 

 
 

Our Guest




We have a guest at our house, one which we do not have to feed, do not have to entertain, do not have to clean up after and do not have to go out of our way to do anything for. That is correct, he is the ideal guest. He gives us untold solace and relaxation by just watching. Yes, watching him do nothing and at most scratch himself or preen. A strange-sounding guest and an even stranger sounding hosts, until you find out that our guest is Mr. Rabbit. A plain old garden variety rabbit, that is our Mr. Bunny.

During the summer it is quite dry and the rabbits that frequent the front yard and Mr. Scott's, plus the trees and bushes across the road, decide that the grass is greener and tastier in our back yard. Now when we had a dog she would catch and kill any bird, rabbit or critter that invaded her domain; so we tried to seal the fence and gate so they could not come in, reciprocally so she could not get out.

Now the dog has been gone for a couple years and we have become lax in putting a log in front of the gate in the back yard, and lo and behold, last summer there appeared a rabbit in the back yard. Every morning he would show up, coming under the gate and then under the camper, and finally into the yard.

One day Mr. Rabbit came up on the patio and put his front paws on the bucket in which I was raising carrots, don't know if he sampled them or not. Mr. Rabbit's routine is the same. He appears about eight in the morning and stays until late in the afternoon. His routine is to snuggle down out next to the pole that houses the rain gauge, preen himself, occasionally scratch and then nap. Not a very exciting routine but it becomes second nature to look for him and to see if he moves and if he has any new fleas.

Trivial to most but it becomes habitual and a game to see if he is there in different weather conditions. It is relaxing to watch one of God's creatures just relaxing and living with no cares and apparently no wants. He has accepted us and allows us to walk within a few feet of him without hopping off.

So if you are bored and fidgety with nothing to do, hope a rabbit comes into your back yard and makes it his daily home.






Written on January 13, 1999







 

 




 

 
 

Box At The Depot




Fred Freestone checked his watch and it was ten seconds past six. He quickly locked the doors without cleaning the floor, and in a hurry home he went. But what he missed, and for which he normally did at three minutes to six each day, was to walk around the station, both inside and outside, and pick up the trash. He checked to see that noone had mistakenly left something. And on this day, since he had left early, he had not see the box there by the third seat, a plain brown paper wrapped around it and tied up with a string.

One corner was a little squashed, and then at seat twelve, which was near the door, a cigar did smolder. And below it, there lying on the floor, was a newpaper, thoroughly read. There were the station windows and the door without blinds, so anyone who looked in could have clearly seen the whole room.

A little after six, a small boy came rushing back to the depot where he had waited and waited for his Auntie Mar. She had been late, and he, oh how he had had to go. As he put his face to the window and looked inside, what did he see on the floor? The newspaper. The San Francisco Chronicle, August tenth, 1924.

That was ok, except for one fact, and that happened to be that the cigar ashes had fallen down and he didn't like what he saw. For the newspaper did smolder and then it caught fire, and it lit up the room.

As the blaze glared, he looked further on, and oh my! There was his box, still sitting there in the room.

He checked the door and the windows, and all were tightly locked. So he ran around to the other side and thought what shall I do?

He watched how the fire grew and thought of his box, and then his old granny's words came to mind, for she had told her boy that times would come when he must be like a man, and he would need to make decisons like a man. But then, at other times, which were most of the time, he could be a boy throughout.

So he ran to the wall and there he found a pail of sand. He quickly took it down. He picked up a rock and with both pail and rock in hands he ran back to the door. With the rock, he broke the door window and deftly reached inside.

He opened the door and with the sand put out the fire. All was safe indeed. Then he spied his box and picked it up. He smiled, sat down, and from his pocket, a jack-knife he did draw. Slowly and surely, he opened the knife and began to cut each string.

He split the paper then picked up the string and lay it on the paper. Slowly and deftly he opened the box, and three meows he did hear. For there inside were three kittens which he had brought home from his grandma's.

He closed the box lid, picked up the paper, and then found a policeman. He showed the policeman the ashes and where he had put the fire out, and then he went home and gave milk to his three kittens. One was for him, one was for Jim, and one was for cousin Sue.






Written in 2000






 

 

 

 
 

Walk To The Store




I was out of baccy, and matches too,
And it was too wet to plow or work the ground.
So I just thought since it was not a hot day
To town I would walk and get what I needed.


It is only five or six miles you see,
Just a bit round the road from where I be.
The road does twist and the road does turn,
And it goes up and down a thousand times.


But shucks as I walk along,
I look around and see what has been brought along.
I see old Jeter has a new fence,
And twelve goats fer Effie to milk.






And then Buster, that sly old coot,
He has added a new carport,
And durned if he ain't already
Done run into it.


And Miz Ada, the widower,
Has planted lots of flowers and has a new yard.
Guess old Clarence was too lazy to do,
But Miz Ada, since Clarence done gone,
Is really stepping out.
And heck a new car she does have,
Instead of that old 46 Chevy pickup truck.


And as I get close to the store,
Shucks Sherman done planted hedge
All along the road.
And Miz Moseley, well I will be durned,
Done painted her house
And two rooms added on.






Well I get to the store and
Baccy and a box of country matches I do get.
Then I buy me two cans of
Prince Albert, and my oh my
What a thirst I do have.


So I buys me a Grape Nehi,
And a bag of peanuts to dump inside.
And I sits on the front porch with all of the folk,
And drink my Nehi, and boy do I belch.
And then I finish every peanut in it.


I cuts me a chaw, and fills my pipe,
And starts back home
For tis nearly time to milk.
Around the road I do walk,
Looking and grinning at the things I ain't seen.






And as I chaw and draw on my pipe,
I do find it funny, yes funny indeed,
For shucks all the things that
I did not see, when I was a walking the other way.


So I waves to Miss Ada and then walk real fast,
Cause my wife would shoot me,
If I stopped to talk.


And then finally I reach the gate,
And down the lane
I head to home, just enjoying
My walk on this nice day.


And when I gets back to the house,
It is time to do my chores.
And so I put my milking boots on,
And reach into my pocket for a new chew.






And darn would you look at that,
I done chawed the whole durn plug.
And then I reach for a match,
And durn them too done
All been used.


And here I done spent half a day,
And I ain't got nothing to show.
For I done chawed the baccy I bought,
And my matches are down to just a few.


But shucks, there is one good thing,
I got to see things I always miss,
For driving that truck don't let a man
See what is going on as he goes down the road.



Written in 2002








 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 



Fortune Teller

Giggles

Peaches ( 10 Authors )

Scene In A Backyard

Ugliness Is What I See




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