Poetry

Charles J. Lord
by Earl Bergland, 1989

The scent of pine trees tearing globs of glitter
Graciously escorted escaping barbecue smoke
Through the forest lanes of cliquish flowers
Barking guardians snapped their bushy tails
Alerting the needy while yo yoing branches

Just last Sunday he had invited us to a mountain party
His sincere goodwill greeting wretched my gut
The guilty feeling of a self-convicted miser averted my eyes
Others better known deserved such enhancement

Sharing like a sunrise searching dawns shadows
Spiriting the cautious to be an open blossom
Encouraging us to embrace an idea
Even a tree

Wading dancing stone to oops
His river rooted feet grew gravel wise
While Charles' galloping laughter
Shamed the jovial waters joshling to the sea

Mountain air tingled the blood
Firewater whispered to hibernating memories

But it was he
Who puff our self esteem
To grasp what Mother Nature
Intended us to be

A cheering arena a king a queen
Not giving an award for this victorious life



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