By Don Kenton Henry
Today I took stock of all for which I paid a fare
The drink and music and solitary travel here or there
Of time spent pursing things I could not acquire and never shall attain
Of years squandered pursing all that’s vain
I thought of material acquisitions victims of inevitable depreciation
Of gifts given with no appreciation
Relationships like cheap jewelry tarnished when exposed to light and air
Cars crashed, rings lost, clothes worn thin
Acquaintances that rolled like coins down a storm drain
Homes and stuff lost in flood to drown … or fire to burn
Things I loved but what for me had no concern
And lent me neither notice or relief from unacknowledged pain
Just heartless stuff
Days turned into years spent on envy, worry and neglect
And never a dividend in return
Lovers passed through the turnstile of my heart and took a piece with every turn
Until regrets like thieves and vampires came to play
And tried to steal my days
But they failed
For now I hear a summer rain come falling down
It plinks and plunks on the tin roof of the humble place to which I have escaped and washes away all recall of wasted yesterday
And from the porch I am dazzled by the yellow of the sun light streaming through the drops like prisms and big as gum balls just before they splash against the orange clay
Sun shower . . . sun light and rain together from a cloudless southern sky
A Creole omen . . . “dreamhopes” and reality get married today
Like old mista’ Mitch, he say, “You jes charge you regrets to d’ dust and let d’ rain settl’ it, Henri . . .”
And so I do
Soon the armadillos under my porch are out
They jump and dance and pounce like nutcrackers in a June ballet at the bugs the rain and sun have stirred from the Bermuda grass and drought
My Blue Heeler jumps through the screen door―off the porch― and takes them all to task
Like my neighbor’s goats and chickens, he tries to herd them all
And I laugh because it’s awfully hard to herd something making like a ball
I take a seat on the step and let the rain roll off the roof, through my hair and down my shirtless back . . .
I hear a whistle and see a Southern Pacific engine―half mile down, cross the track
Then I stand and raise my arms and, with one hand, catch the Texas sun and, with the other, East Texas rain
And I realize these things now mean more to me than all the things on which I wasted time and youth not once to gain
An unseen hand provideth rain and sun and dog and dancing homesteading prehistoric armored possums to give me proof and cause me pause
To reflect and ascertain . . .
The best things in life to keep one sane . . .
Are squeezing orange Texas clay between your toes and singing of the long lost southern cause. . . as a train clacks the beat . . .
and the thunder claps applause
I love Sun Shower Kenton! Beautiful and so profound and true.
Have a blessed Day!
I just saw your comments. Thank you so much, Vicki!
You have a blessed day also!