March 1, 2021
A Pause for Poetry
By Gary Heath
Poet in Residence for 50+ Lifestyles.
In His Glider on the Porch
He unfolds from his car as if
Magnetically pulled toward
The old, clapboard meeting
Place. He loves the wraparound
Porch where their minds sparkled
Into the night. A motley grove of
Trees embowers the ancient pile.
Rough planks of wood lean against
The shed in shabby disarray. A utility
Pole shoots into the sky, blooming
Into a net of wires fingering through
The trees. He climbs the sagging
Wooden steps to his accustomed
Glider, the one he bought long ago.
Now he glides to and fro, metronome
Of memory. He gazes at the moon
Climb through the wires and trees
Toward the stars and galaxies whose
Mysteries once drew them close. Only
He remains to mark their deep encounters
With the stars in his glider on the porch.
Victory at Sea
A brilliant cerulean sky, a
Bright day, the day my
Roommate and I parted,
End of our senior year. We
Did not know what the future
Held, Vietnam made certain
The uncertain. Two young
Men in a watershed time,
Where to spend their youth,
In this turbulent era. We
Talked as long as we could,
Till his Dad picked him up,
With all this stuff, topped
By his stereo system that
Ruled our room. He wore
Headphones, yet I could
Feel the crescendos of
Victory at Sea, he loved to
Play. My parents picked me
Up next, a somber drive home,
At least for me. I am sure my
Parents felt my melancholy,
Though not the crescendos
In Victory at Sea.
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