SpearPoint Publications

Memorial Day,

6:30 in the mornin’ . . .

A father and his son.

Have a tailgate breakfast.

Donuts everyone!

Before a single misdirected grocery cart is collected

And most of Oregon has yet to stir awake . . .a Lad and Dad

Connect and make memories on Memorial Day!

Meanwhile not much more than a mile away

A woman takes an early jog . . .

Maybe a mom but who knows,

This is her time, solitude, open space, and refreshing air,

And there to greet her as she runs is the vibrance of spring,

Clear, cool skies and a welcoming soft wind.

Of course, her thoughts are her own as she too . . .

Connects for memory’s sake it’s Memorial Day! 

In the supermarket world this weekend it is all about,

Hots and Hams, we are talking buns here, check the endcaps . . .

For stellar deals backyard chefs may cue the que for

Franks and Patties galore fresh from the store designed to bring smiles,

Connecting us in beautiful memories…because it is Memorial Day!

It’s time to decide where to take a ride,

In this big wide world of naturalness 

What shall we see . . . Sugarfoot?

Satin Grass Hollar down yonder,

Or way up top to Timberline Bluff

Wherever we go it suits me fine

Cause hangin’ out with you . . .

Right now, is what this cowpoke needs to do.

Do you mind if I whistle a tune or two?

Promising . . . I’ll ease off the one’s that bother you,

That’s just a gesture friends ought to do for friends.

I reckon the Sun’s at our back either which way we choose,

I’d consider this day a perfect one,

Not too hot, not too cool, so, there’s nothin’ really to lose.

It’s like a great big slice of heaven here in these sacred Wyoming hills,

Enough warmth to stow a topcoat, for later, layerin’ needs,

If an afternoon breeze brings chills around, ticklin’ the evergreens.

It’s time to decide where to take a ride,

In this big wide world of naturalness 

What shall we see . . . Sugarfoot?

Satin Grass Hollar down yonder

Or way up top to Timberline Bluff . . .

We could always flip a coin or simply follow our noses!

Remember Sugarfoot…it’s your turn to be the decider!

A treehouse calls to Lily -

“Climb on up, you’ll see,

This lofty view awaits you,

We can share good company.”

As the day grew warm

The shady perch felt perfectly . . .

For friendly talk within the piney wood.

Then a woodpeckers knock caught them by surprise,

“I heard your laughs and chatter,

And thought I should say Hi!

Because birds and trees,

Just hang out together naturally -

We can be, down to Earth,

But, mostly at home here in the sky.”

So… the conifer spoke -

“When the wind comes round . . .

You might say we do the highland jig,

We stretch our hearty torso,

Shake our branches in the breeze,

Exercising all our limbs in swaying dance

Moves our fine point needles to the twig!”

Then Lily turned asking . . .

“I heard a hoot owl hooting,

I hope it was okay,

Right outside my window late last night.”

“She was only calling,

For her boyfriend from a neighboring tree,

So, they could sit together visiting . . .

Until sunshine comes to brightly beam again,

Before they both decide it’s finally time for bed!”

“That said…Dear Lily,” As the woodpecker spoke.

“Owls sleep away the day . . .

Then fly the dark of night, keeping watchful eyes alert,

Listening for little everything’s,

Happening from dusk right through till dawn.”

And Lily sang . . .

“This has been fun, this has been sweet,

Thanks for all your stories and for inviting me . . .

Into the arms of a handsome evergreen -

With a delightful woodpecker who speaks with ease

I’m grateful as I can be – Here’s to friendship, may I come back, please?

Because you made my day!”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Everyone agreed.

Then, Lily climbed down, ran back home with a smile and brand-new memory. 

Until they meet again.

When morning came calling

The sun, the clouds, the sky

She steps out to greet this day -

With easel, pad, and pens

And a fine array of paint n brushes

Carefully squirreled away

I guess you know what comes next . . .

The things the artists do

It is her own impression, of what she really sees

Roughed in lines fall here and there

Soon she’ll boost her sketchy framework

Long before pigments hit her page

Light and shadow treatment

Referenced by the Sun of course!

Included in this mixture fest - in color water splash

She employs some texture touches

Enhancing as she brushes through another nature path

Finishing with her name at last

The things the artists do

With only thirty days to present herself

April never lets Spring get by without her pleasing, natural wonders, on display

At least in the northern hemisphere

She is enticingly, bouquet-rich… dressed in alluring colors, 

Here in western Oregon . . .

Our rural landscapes blush handsome shades of greens

Some spots thanks to the handiwork of farmers

While other places beam naturally wild

All, are woven seamlessly together as a pastoral Earth quilt,

Causing our eyes to grin with delight 

Perennial bulbs, bushes, and blossoming trees

Launch fourth from soaking, restoring, rains -

Promising now is yet another, Astounding April!

Tuck away some raindrops

Like a keepsake while you can

It’s up to you to figure out how you’ll undertake your plan

Surely, I suggest this - as no riddle nor a rhyme

For if we fail to catch them

They will only disappear to form again and pour another time

The happenstance of blues and greens are most pleasing to the eyes

When Spring arrives and comes alive again 

Like a wizard wand of colors brushed across this fertile rolling land

So, we breathe a little deeper just to slow our heartbeat down

Surrounded in the beauty – beaming, boldly, kindly - messing with the mind 

Sunlight kisses everything except in shadowed places

Brilliant faces looking back adorn

From tree nub into blossom, blade to grassy knoll…‘tis represented well’

Wildflowers rise to hold their ground pedaling their showy dress, impress  

Tuck away some raindrops

Like a keepsake while you can

It’s up to you to figure out how you’ll undertake your plan

Surely, I suggest this - as no riddle nor a rhyme

For if we fail to catch them

They will only disappear to form again and pour another time

Suppose the Sun spun away on a cosmic holiday,

Never spoke a word - just left us in the fray,

So much for the silence and cool demise

As we welcome in the deepest, darkest, skies,

Quickly we are frozen in our cryogenic space,

A different sort of outcome than we factored for this place,

So, does it really matter all we meant to do…

When Garden Earth turns forever icy blue  

Suppose we had one single chance…

To right the wrongs of circumstance

Boldly act upon the best ideas

To remedy the smothering, excessive, heat effects of greenhouse gas 

It’s hard to imagine our global village minds,

 Would ever agree - science could rescue us from the threat that binds…

As time to make decisions is slipping from our hands -

The tipping point is here right now but so few understand!

The weather prognosticator

From our local, locality news

Recommends – take your best umbrella,

Overcoat and maybe wear your trusty galoshes too!

There’s a storm on the horizon,

Watch Out, because…it’s comin’ - for sure, it’s rollin’ in

Unless you got protection it’ll soak you to the skin

You’ve been warned, you’ve been warned, you’ve been warned!

And then there’s knucklehead Norm

You see…Norm ain’t afraid of nothing

Heck, hail has hit his brain

Too many times to count now

He claims, he never feels any pain

He may donate his noggin to science

But that’s been a waiting game…

For the moment it’s being used says he…

Kind of, like a lightning rod of sorts

You know, a real live wire - conductor 

Crazed with electrified ideas

One step away from a thunderstorm doozy upon the soccer field 

Because he’s knucklehead Norm

He’s been warned, he’s been warned, he’s been warned! 

There’s an island in the zigzagged river, Zee,

When you look down from Daisy Point Rest -

Rugged, pine-encrusted, and wicked steep, it’s often easy to spot,

Unless low hanging weather huddles in…clouding, clogging the gorgeous view,

Into dogged, gray shaded fog…and that’s not okay! It ought to be on display. 

This curiously wild cone shaped place…

Has it seen explorers yearning to know what’s there? Can’t say. But, hey!

With magnified glasses you can focus in…discovering an eagle’s nest

Common sense says – dang, leave it alone, it does not deserve any humanness - 

Especially for the sake of the baby birds

Right now, it stands as a nursery,

Where eaglets call reciting their avian words

“Mom and Dad, we’re hungry…when will we ever be served!”

The young ones fail to understand,

“Fishing takes time, like hunting does too,

We will be back when those tasks are through,

Play charades to pass some time - to while your cares away,

Just listen to the river, listen to the breeze and the cracking limbs of the island’s trees

Or kick back and rest with ease along the zigzagged river, Zee.”

When me and Six-String found the right road

We’d stitched together a whole routine

Find a campsite, let the tailgate down

As close as we could get to a gurglin’ stream

Buddies sittin’ back, living the dream - until evening came rollin’ around

North of the Sun, givin’ how steady we’d go

Two souls ready for natures next show

That glow in-between, day, before night

When florescent light might surprise the eyes

How quickly it fades to bow goodbye

So, stars may take their nautical, nocturnal turn

And start…passage across the sky

There’s a formula I read once; I cannot remember where…

Should two legs and four legs simply agree

Forming a friendship - letting it be

It can last a lifetime and then some too

If memories count like old photographs do

Recording a smidgeon of past

Sure, as shootin’ we both had a blast

Maybe we should become a trio?

Six–String wagged his bushy tail

So, I nicknamed my guitar - Dawgster MaGee

My ancient blue pick-up responded to Clem

We camped and drove and camped again

Wherever music felt good to play

Folks said they were often carried away

From whistles, strums, or accent barks

There by the fire with cracklin’ sparks 

Me and Six-String and Dawgster MaGee

North of the Sun, givin’ how steady we’d go

Two souls ready for natures next show

That glow in-between, day, before night

When florescent light might surprise the eyes

Then quickly fades to bow goodbye

So, stars may take their nautical, nocturnal turn

And start…passage across the sky