On Father’s Day

It’s been a few years now since three generations stood in line for Father’s Day photographs.

Now at the head the view is different. Men in my family call each other buck. Tradition passed down several generations. Big buck the eldest, Buck, little Buck, and Buckleys for grand children .

The torch was passed three years ago September. It’s a struggle to fill big shoes. I still look to his example and hope to measure up.

The task to prepare the next generation never ends. Even more importantly when it’s your own tribe. Each generations wisdom passed down. Stepping up and bring them round



Smiling faces stare at beautiful people making beautiful words to each other. Parents proud all around sentiment overload.

Songs sung Mother’s and son danced. Crowd claps tear sneaks down hide it with a casual wipe of the eye. Wish I could hide sensory overload.

Daises on the shore

Daises on the shore

Daises waving serendipitously

amongst the blades of grass

I pick one and lay it down

So to erase the frown

That trembles from your lip

A representation of what has been lost

and what might be gained

When time heals the pain

That clouds over the shining sun

That glistens off the waves

Pounding on the shore

In timeless waves of sorrow

That one day may return to joy.



Breath frozen in a moment.

Predestined from the second

You appeared at my door.

Swirling blond, sparkling eyes

Wicked smile.


Bewitched into your charms

Powerless to resist

Smoother me with your kisses

Feel the power of your touch

As I rock with you to spent

Passion’s end

Rest with me a while in the glow

We created.

Late on a summer afternoon

Late on a summer afternoon

Your smile as bright as the summer sun.

Hair golden fragrant as fresh cut hay.

Through the daisies we will run

All to celebrate our love this summer day.

Walking hand in hand through tall grass

Throwing down a blanket trimmed in red.

Pulling you into my arms sinking fast.

Rolling in our wild flower laced bed.

Watching the sun in a downward spiral sink

Its redness matches your ruby lips

Not taking one more moment to think.

As my hand slides down your hip

Into your eyes do I stare.

And for your constant love say a prayer.


Conversation in dreams

Conversations in Dreams

The path glistening in the moonlight of dreams

originating from Eden’s gate.

Presenting opportunities to transform clay into light,

while illuminating the divine in the corporeal realm.

Climbing towards the light of perpetual peace and grace.

If only for a chance to see God’s face.


Midnight missives in dreams undefined.

Forgotten by morning but there nebulous

in the static of neural transmissions and ghost memories

That will not completely fade.

Guiding paths crisscrossed with moon shadow and doubt.

Towards fate incomprehensible to reason

but reassuring none the less, giving structure

to an orderly universe.