John & Priscilla Alden

I wrote this poem for my journal eleven years ago. I thought I would re- blip the old words once again as Thanksgiving Day approaches.

Waxy Past

seafaring mayflower pilgrim
passenger priscilla, who so loved john
begat a son named david
and prospered
by strange shores.

one child with many siblings
he, along with mary
skippered on their DNA
down through the generations 
shaped strong by tidal rhythms, 
in spray of sea and swell.

mothers, fathers, and their children, 
elders, farmers, simple folk
toiling, thriving, 
sailing outward,
sailing onward bravely
they plyed that eastern shore.

molded, formed and strengthened
nurtured strong
by clear sea air 
they stayed fast
steered true, the years gave way.

suddenly this morning,
as candles from past, they
stared seaward from my mantle 
two waxy faces careworn,
becalmed and etched by time.

years three hundred seventy eight
have passed since that david's birth.
still on, his line sails surging 
downwind inside my veins.
moored fast, firmly anchored, 
i lie safe and sound onshore.

For the Record,
This day came in sunny and cold before a rainy day tomorrow. Five of my paintings made their way into the above collage as well.

All hands Thankful