Ode to Robbie (on Burns Night)

Through rigs of barley, banks and braes;
You’d often stop near Galloway’s
Soft slender hills to ponder those
Whose lives, like yours, had ebbs and flows.

John Anderson and Duncan Gray;
Will Stewart and Lord Gregory.
Lest these or others be forgot,
Parnassus Hill will fail them not.

From there and elsewhere, you went down,
To Dumfries and to St. John’s Town
To sip a dram of loving kindness-
Overcoming heartache’s blindness.

That love? It was a red, red rose
Once plucked at autumn’s tender close;
And brimming wine in silver tassies
Poured out for unnamed bonnie lassies.

Your passion, Robert, led you to
The scripting of the dreams you knew,
Like petticoats that slowly dry
On Jenny coming through the rye.

You’d not much time to verse those dreams
And fell despite your best laid schemes.
Yet time will never dull your pen;
We’ll rest by Afton Water again.

On Each Side of the Sky

Last night,

(didn’t text ;)

watched the sunset,

and then next,

watched the moonrise :

they were good –

put me in

a peaceful mood.

Hope you’ll see them,

feel them, too,

Next time night light

shines for you.