50+ Lifestyles

A Pause for Poetry

By Gary Heath
Poet in Residence for 50+ Lifestyles

Childhood Creek

That summer we skylarked among
The willows along the creek running
Through our farm. We pressed our
Foreheads firm together, our eyes
Taut like slings, peering into the
Other’s orbs. We knew precisely what
The other was thinking, or thought we
Did, until that day you found a new
Friend, ending my halcyon summer.
You catapulted me brazenly into the
Searing torch of tomorrow. I had to
Somehow lift it up, go beyond that
Muddy creek, shadowed by willows,
See we were not one, nor ever could be.

Marbles

A throbbing cosmos of cloudy and gray
Dust swirls from the rubble through the
Afternoon slanting light. A mother and
Child shimmer forth from the bombed-
Out village, otherworldly mirage to the
Rescuers’ disbelieving eyes. A fist of fire
And steel laid waste their home and all
Family save gaunt mother and son. Their
Faces bear a grimy, ghastly cake of
Fathomless despair, ground-zero of living
Room, blasted of living. Mother’s eyes plea
For water as they draw near. Her little boy
Clings to his big jar of marbles in arms
Streaked with blood. Rescuers see the
Marbles tremble.