1.30.2025 – shadows of the bikes

shadows of the bikes
low blue lustre tardy and
soft inrolling tide

Adapted from Sketch by Carl Sandburg in Chicago Poems as published in The Complete Poems of Carl Sandburg, (Harcourt Brace and Company, New York, 1950).

The shadows of the ships
Rock on the crest
In the low blue lustre
Of the tardy and the soft inrolling tide.

A long brown bar at the dip of the sky
Puts an arm of sand in the span of salt.

The lucid and endless wrinkles
Draw in, lapse and withdraw.
Wavelets crumble and white spent bubbles
Wash on the floor of the beach.

Rocking on the crest
In the low blue lustre
Are the shadows of the ships.


1.23.2025 – don’t be part of the

don’t be part of the
problem stay home and be part
of the solution

So said the Bullock County Sheriff after a day and night of rain, freezing rain, ice, snow and everything in between.

Don’t be part of the problem. Stay home and be part of the solution the Sheriff said.

My first reaction was to stay home and let the snow plows get out and take care of the mess.

Then it really hit me.

The State of South Carolina and the Country of Beaufort and the towns of Bluffton and Hilton Head don’t have any plows.

They don’t have any salt.

The might have sand and shovels but not what you think of for snow removal.

Sun is supposed to come out tomorrow, or maybe this weekend or maybe not for a while.

I will stay home.

I will be part of the solution.

Not a part of the problem.

1.22.2025 – snow falls in the south

snow falls in the south
and snow falls on King Neptune
snow knows no respect

January 2025 and the south sees snow.

We went for a walk along the snow filled, slushy streets.

We have to wait for the snow plows to get out and clear the roads we thought.

Then we remembered.

We are in the south.

We are in South Carolina.

There are no snow plows.

There is no salt.

There is only cold and wait for the sun.

Even King Neptune bowed his head … and went ice fishing.

12.12.2024 – sea sunset give us

sea sunset give us
keepsakes, pay us for prayers
mountain clouds bronze skies

Sea sunsets, give us keepsakes
Prairie gloamings, pay us for prayers
Mountain clouds on bronze skies —
Give us great memories
Let us have summer roses
Let us have tawny harvest haze in pumpkin time
Let us have springtime faces to toil for and play for
Let us have the fun of booming winds on long waters
Give us dreamy blue twilights — of winter evenings — to wrap us in a coat of dreaminess
Moonlight, come down — shine down, moonlight — meet every bird cry and every song calling to a hard old earth, a sweet young earth

Adapted from Good Morning America Part 21 as published in Complete Poems by Carl Sandburg (Harcourt, Brace and Company, New York, 1950).

12.6.2024 – stood in the doorway

stood in the doorway
where the sun’s last rays faded
in brilliant display

At Sunset

I stood in the doorway at evening,
And I looked to the hills far away
Where the sun’s last rays seemed to linger,
Ere they faded in brilliant display.

Yes, lingered in beautiful splendor,
And the scene was rare to behold,
A pale blue sky was its back-ground,
With stretches of pink and gold.

What wonder that Nature’s rare beauty
So inspires the soul and thrills
Our beings with tender emotions,
As we look far away to the hills!

To the “hills” of which “David” has spoken,
“From whence comes my help,” said he,
And we have the same blest assurance,
As we gaze on their majesty.

And we think of the Power who formed them,
They seem like a tower of defence
To protect and to ward off the evil
Until we depart and go hence;

Where the sunlight fades not, but lingers,
And to-night my waiting soul thrills
As I stand in the doorway at sunset,
As I look far away to the hills.

At Sunset by Olivia Ward Bush-Banks published in the book, Driftwood by Olivia Ward Bush-Banks, (Atlantic Printing Co., Providence, R.I., 1914).

According to Wikipedia: Olivia Ward Bush-Banks (née Olivia Ward; February 27, 1869 – April 8, 1944) was an American author, poet and journalist of African-American and Montaukett Native American heritage. Ward celebrated both of her heritages in her poetry and writing. She was a regular contributor to the Colored American magazine and wrote a column for the New Rochelle, New York publication, the Westchester Record-Courier.

The Banks established and ran the Bush-Banks School of Expression in Chicago, which became a place for black artists to gather and nurture their art. Actors and musicians gave recitals and performances at the school. Ward continued her artistic endeavors, focusing on drama. She also worked teaching drama in the Chicago public school system.