tennesseejudy Poetry (3)

Underneath the trees of maple, once again I foot travel up the dusty lane going home

Violets of blue in patches bloom, lilacs fill the air with sweet perfume
Sunlit through the trees going home.

Sam barks and comes to welcome us, kids wave good bye from the yellow bus coming home from school,
going home.

Dad waves from a fresh plowed row, denim overalls, rusty hoe.
My steps quicken going home.

On the front porch, through the old screen door, walk across the clean waxed floor.
Always kitchen first going home.

Mom in apron hums while she bakes buttermilk biscuits, a pie or a cake.
That wonderful smell of going home.

Lacy pink curtains blow in the wind, back in my bedroom again. So sweet and secure of coming home.

Upstairs window I stand and sigh, broken glass, tears in my eyes. The dust and cobwebs of going home.

Empty rooms, evening sun shinning in, no one to welcome me home again when I am going home.

Lean against the chipped window sill and graze out toward the distance hill as many times before in young dreams of leaving home.

Graves in dainty daisies dressed, side by side Mom and Dad rest. Ghost haunt and hug and welcome me when I am going home.

When the darkness turns to gray with the sun's first soft ray making all the world look new ,it is then I think of you.

When the dew kissed rose I see, birds singing from the trees to welcome day as they do ,it is then I think of you.

When soft winds arouse the trees with a gentle summer breeze drying off the morning dew, it is then I think of you.

When the sun glides across the sky settling into its mid day high with cotton clouds against the blue, it is then I think of you.

When there's afternoon thundershowers lasting for a few dark hours and then the raindrops cease to few, it is then I think of you.

When the rainbow then appears erasing all the storms dark fears, the sky again is baby blue, it is then I think of you.

When I see the orange sunset reminding me how we first met and then the sun sinks out of view, it is then I think of you.

When the evening shadows fall starts the crickets lonely call giving the fireflies their cue, it is then I think of you.

When twinkling stars adorn the night accompanied by the moon's pale light, beams dancing on the distant hue, it is then I think of you.

When in my dreams I often see fantasies of you and me and I know my love is true, it is then I think of you.

The Pecan Tree

In a tiny town in Texas, a soldier and his wife
Sat beneath a tree of pecans, talked about their future life.
What the tree heard touched her deeply, deeply down inside her heart,
Learning soon this young couple would sadly have to part.

She drove him to the airport and watched his plane fly away.
Then she wept beneath the pecan on this endless autumn day.
His letters from the battlefield she read beneath the tree.
When the fruit is on the ground again he'll be coming back to me.

She waited by the window in a long white flannel gown,
Watched the dancing snowflakes gently fall upon the ground.
The tree outside the window cold wind bending her naked boughs
Both were waiting for the springtime and new life to arouse.

She waited in the garden, planting tiny seeds.
The robin and the sparrow sang to fill her empty need.
The tree in chartreuse budlings listened to the song.
She wanted this to swiftly pass, the tree this time prolong.

She waited in the summertime turning golden from the sun,
Thinking of her certain someone and things together they had done.
The tree in emerald splendor nursed its scion
As it's jaded foliage cast long shadows in the sun.

She waited in the evening beneath the harvest moon,
Her happy knowing he'd surely be home soon.
The tree bent low in heavy fruit ready soon to fall
Sighed, anticipating when again it would stand tall.

She waited softly humming. Then there came the tragic news
Of a firefight near the ocean, her lover's life did lose.
In the garden, almost midnight twinkling stars shone above,
The tree wept her pecans with the maiden's lament love.

Despair gripped the garden. It was a maddening sight to see.
In the moonlight, teardrops glistening she chopped down the pecan tree.
When they found her in the morning upon the tree she lay her head.
The tree and the maiden, still and cold in crimson red.