Jude-Originals

JUDE POKORNY ORIGINALS

ORIGINALS PAGE 1

"MORE THAN ENOUGH"

"Never catch a break,"

Said Harold.

"Not from these storms."

More rain than

He needs.

More wind than his crops

Can handle.

Livestock jumpy in

Their pens,

Soaked rows of

Fresh turned hay.

Never-ending battle

In the middle of

This land.

"SOUNDS OF WATER"

I walk through the field,

Smelling the damp air.

Search the distance

For the glint

Of water.

Around the bend,

Noises of swift moving

Water.

Never disappointed

On the road

Less Traveled.

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"HAVEN"

The only conifer

On the hill.

Safety net for

Birds in flight.

From a distance,

A murmuring of swallows

Sweeps inside its

Shape.

Minutes pass, I anticipate

The explosion

And am not

Disappointed.

Alone.

Ageless feeling of

Solitude.

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"HOMEWARD BOUND"

Long road, longer

Days.

The cliche, A farmer's

Work is never

Done.

At the end of the road,

A home cooked

Meal,

And family.

What more could one

Ask?

"GATHERING"

Again and again,

Wandering the

Flatlands,

The clouds gather.

Can't stop it,

Can't wish it

Away.

Sharpen the

Senses,

Focus the

Mind.

Bring it

Home.

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"THE OTHER TRAIL"

Not one to be cowed by

Distance,

Even though the

Pathway stretched unending

Took a chance to find

Its purpose.

Watched for signs of

Reason

For this never ending,

Dusty route.

Nothing in sight for

Miles.

A quick step to the side

To watch the mail truck

Pass!

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"ORANGE COLORED SKY"

Never ceases to

Amaze.

No matter the number of

Times.

Photographs don't

Express,

Paintings can't

Depict

The brilliance of

Your first

Orange Colored

Sky.

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"OVERGROWN"

Old path, long

Abandoned.

Haven't been there for years.

Half forgotten memories

Resurface.

Alone with my thoughts,

Recalling childhood

Forays.

Missing friends on

Horseback,

And dogs that follow.

Across this field

A way still shows.

Worth the effort.

Time spent wandering

With companions in my

Heart.

SOLD

"A FATHER'S SECRET"

His favorite spot

For fishing late.

Took no one here

But Uncle Bugs

And me.

Gave him that name,

I did.

Uncle Bugs did

Fly tying.

Lots of fish

Caught on those flies

In that lake.

That name, "Uncle Bugs"

It caught on, too.

Still have his

Bamboo pole.

"HEADED BACK"

Walked back home

(where home was for a

Few months.)

Turned around a

Hundred times.

Pondered the canvas of

Colors.

Going the wrong was the

Thought.

In the moment,

In unfamiliar

Territory.

Darkness called me

Home.

"GRANDFATHER'S FIELD"

He lived his life

For the land.

Planted his gardens,

Cut the hay and

Filled his barns;

Bent his back

To the harvest.

He pruned the fruit trees

In dead of winter.

Did we ever know

The seasons meant

So much more than

Four pictures

On a wall.

"BACKLIGHTING"

Color of maize,

All turns to

Gold.

Surrounds everything that rises

From the Earth.

Wanting to see if it happens

To me.

Never anyone I can turn to

On these forays.

Solitude is my strong

Suit.

Sharing with those that have

Traveled before,

Is all I know.

Fortunate to be here,

Still.

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(C)Pokorny