A Norman Rockwell Scene

Pickled watermelon rinds
in Bell Jars on the window sill
an array of color, summer flavor
sweet corn from the farm
fresh eggs and butter
milk in glass bottles
left on the front porch
in the morning with
the daily paper beside
grandpa and the stewed prunes
that made my nose wrinkle
Sunday dinner 3:00 p.m. after church
we had to sit around
in our good clothes
blueberry or apple pies
served warm for desert
fresh coffee or milk
and the chatter of the adults
drones of football games
the women in the kitchen
the men on the couch
and the children playing
outside trying not to get dirty.

– previously published 1993

norman-rockwell-thanksgiving

trapped within

silhouetted before
the room’s glow
silently you walk
the perimeter
appearing there
in silence
need thirsting
below the surface
awaiting invitation
ghostly
close yet
disappearing
cautiously
approaching
delicate exchanges
something trapped
beneath
an icy cap
thawing
words spoken
to reach you
your distant castle
barriers and traps
pained to love
away from
all sight
spring searches
to find you
patiently
aching
to touch
your tender soul.

castle