January 11 , 2007

For John Engle A VALEDICTION: RELINQUISHING THE POET’S TIES Even these strips of cloth he spurned fall inevitably into anapest before they leave the realm of his tender influence. They lie now in a scan of short and long                    on a heap of formal suits he long ago rejected for treebark familiarity of tweed. Donating his disregarded neckties to Goodwill should not add to my anguish; his only tolerated tie went with him to the flames, a clip-on he clipped off as soon as he accepted the award, served on the panel…read before the audience he cherished soul by soul. If I open this black box the size of two stacked bricks I can search his ashes for a little molten metal clip-on clump as enduring as a word he’d use to turn a sift of ordinary syllables into root-regenerating loam. Marietta Ball Xenia, OH           Love Ain’t Easy Why can’t love be easy? Oh how much sweeter Life could be! The sorrow of heartache Would sail away Like playful bubbles Cascading over ancient rocks In a happy woodland stream. The tears of disappointment Would float away Like feathers on the fickle wind. Without love, hope will wither Like a reluctant flower Kissed be a November frost. Children are not afraid of love, They understand trust and faith, They wear it on their face And in their eyes. So why can’t love be easy? Perhaps we should ask a child. Charles Clevenger New Boston, Ohio    INDIAN SUMMER LOVE I found you in the autumn of my life when seeds of spring had borne their summer fruit and frost had sealed a winter promise with a kiss. The glorious burning blaze  of Indian Summer daze made me forget that this was just a fleeting imitation. How foolish I to think that there could ever be another summer now. Quick as it comes, it goes and nothing left except a fading autumn fire and a winter promise to be kept. Linda Swift Reeder Paducah, KY