May, a poem

May

May arrived on a murmur of bees

and distant mowers. The wordless rains

of night had carried Spring away

and a pungency of privet

now frames the day, stinky-sweet snow

bending to a bramble embrace.

There is no purpose in such a day.

It dozes. It dreams beyond its fences

into fields of the fresh-turned future.

Stephen Brooke ©2013

A bit of verse, just to prove I'm not totally vegetating here...

Doing Things

I don’t have to do anything. Not a thing. The rest of my life could be spent moldering here on Peanut Road, with no duties, no obligations. I have all I need, a home (albeit in need of some repair), a small assured income. I’m close enough to a town that I wouldn’t even need a car and its attendant expenses.

But then, why bother with such a life? I’ve been a bit purposeless the past month as I adjusted to my new circumstances and it’s mighty darn boring. Which was okay — a little boredom was welcome for a while.

So it’s time to get busy again. Of course, Spring brings lots of gardening and yard work and that has helped ease me back into an active routine. The creative stuff is starting to fit itself in.

And, in time, some travel. I’ve not made it to the beach yet but that will be soon. I am almost certainly going to make it to the Florida Folk Festival in two weeks — the first time I’ve been able since 2008. It looks, at this point, that I will only be there for one day, probably Sunday. But that’s a whole lot better than not going anywhere at all, isn’t it?

Regret, a poem

Regret

Regret nothing —

if one thing hadn’t happened

another would have

and maybe it did.

We are all in that box

with Schrodinger’s furry feline.

Or is it hairless?

I’ve sought to amaze you

but instead I amuse you.

That’s not to regret, either,

when I count up my days

and find one missing.

I’m sure I put it

on the counter to ripen.

Must be those mice.

They’ll regret it.

Stephen Brooke ©2013

Path, a poem

Path

We need follow a path

if we are to find

the place our own path begins.

Beyond the woods the way

is open. We will see

stars set high to guide us

and a sun that rises

above the fields we seek.

Stephen Brooke ©2013

Crossing, a poem

Crossing

From the high passes, I spied

your wealth, coveted

all the golden riches

of tower-crowned cities,

dozing through the days.

The sun had sung you to sleep.

I have crossed the mountains.

What legions can you marshal

against my hunger? What

captain knows the truths

a sword writes on the heart?

The conqueror weighs his costs

like fruit in the market, buying

the ripeness of each promise.

There is no cheating such scales

when I name my ransom.

I have crossed the mountains;

I am in your fields.

Stephen Brooke ©2013

Being a poem, this may, of course, be chock-full of metaphor and speak of many sorts of conquests. Or take it at face value.

GoodReads

By now, most book-loving folks on line probably know that GoodReads has been bought by Amazon. And most of the book-loving folks who use GoodReads seem to be unhappy about it.

Count me among them.

However, it is too good a tool for authors for me to just pull out. And, having finally made the move to sell my books in Kindle format, I guess I’ve already sold my soul to Amazon.

It would be nice, though, if there were another good independent book site out there. There will certainly be room for one now.

An End

My mother, Mary Katherine Page Brooke, passed away this afternoon. Her end was peaceful and fairly brief, after her long decline over the past six years. She was 94 years old and is survived by five children, and many grandchildren, great grandchildren, and great great grandchildren.

update, march 29

Mom came home this morning and is settled in for now. She is very near the end and is not expected to last more than a few days. Her body will not take nourishment any longer and rejects the food --- all we can do is try to keep her comfortable and give her a peaceful end.

update, Mar 28

A quick update on what's been going on here---my mother remains in the hospital (the Campbellton-Graceville Hospital, which is close). If things go well, she will come home tomorrow, Friday, and be under Hospice care.

I know that this is the final stage of Mom's life. She will be leaving us soon, but soon could run from days to months. All that is to be done is to care of her until it's time and to pray.