Sometimes

Sometimes I wander off Not so you would notice, just off Toward the deep end But not all in the deep Just the edge of the shallows Pondering what’s in the deep I don’t go there because Who knows what’s out there And besides, I know you’re watching What will you say if I go
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How to Tell a Tale

Technology today has brought people together like never before.  One can talk to a relative while looking at them on the other side of the country or make a new friend on the other side of the world.  Opportunity to learn has never been so great.  We are all connected.  I have noticed a trend
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Gone Fishin'

I used to fish from time to time. Not like Bill Dance or anything, just head off by myself to the bank of some pond or perhaps, if I was really lucky, climb into a flat-bottom boat that might happen to be hidden in the weeds at whatever hole I was bumming around at. I
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When I Grow Up

Sometimes there are things in my life that I do not recall but someone else tells me they happened.  My mother will do this from time to time.  She told me that once, when I was but a lad, we were out in the yard playing one day.  That day happened to be garbage pick-up
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Anticipation

Anticipation With bated breath we sit and wait For the rising sun, he won’t be late To see his wonder and feel his heat We hang upon the edge of seat We know the time he will appear His being late I do not fear He will be grand, this rising fellow Now the horizon
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Contentment

I woke up early this morning in Monument Valley waiting for the sun to rise.  We have been on the road for a week now and have seen many wonderful things.  I love to travel into the Western U.S.  There is a beauty here that I cannot put into words.  I am constantly taking pictures here but
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My Muse

To be inspired to create is a difficult pursuit.  Many days fall by the wayside in a sea of monotony that is a product of our modern world.  We become so engrossed in the getting of bread that we forget to be.  I believe that we all have an innate desire to build or compose
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The Illusion of Friday

Sometime during my work week, usually around lunch on Tuesday, I begin to search for something.  I dig deep in the back of my mind, which can be dangerous, trying to envision just what it is that I can’t find.  I started out fresh on Monday, I recall, but it seems that I lost that
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The Backroad

I live out in the hills.  I drive fifty miles one way to get to my place of employment.  I am working to change this but that is another story.  The final two-thirds of my commute is four lanes of highway filled with swerving texters and raging motorists who apparently all left home about thirty minutes
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Sitters of Porches

There is a quality that comes with being Southern that can only be understood if you live here.  What seems strange to the rest of the world carries here a feeling of warm-heartedness and familiarity that I value deep in my soul.  There is one place that has always seemed to be the incubator of
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