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RUBY KNOWS

4/25/2021

RUBY KNOWS

Ruby

Holds our hearts
In tiny hands

While her pretty eyes
Try to understand

Life's complexity

Though small
Bigger now

Than we'll
Ever be

With INSTINCT pure
As driven snow

Ruby knows

She'll walk
You and me

Through the forest
And past the trees

Along flowered fields
Aside gentle streams

In sync the sound
Of rustling leaves

Her thatch basket
Full of thought

Soon to overflow

Few escape
Without a trace

Lost atop
The fragrant breeze

High as Heaven goes

Replaced by dreams
Ones she's caught

Secret wishes set free
INTUITION WILL be her key

Only Ruby holds

Lest we forget

RUBY KNOWS

Out Of The Blue From Out Of This World

4/8/2021

A short story of back to a normal America thanks to a two year old who can instinctively relate to the very real world around us. I pray she stays this way shrouded by those, blest of heart. This correlation of a gentleman and a little girl who for some reason have touched each other, out of the blue from out of this world.

After returning home from a burial service on Long Island, two funeral cards found their niche amongst the ordinary items that found their way on my tousled table top. Both cards rested there a few days unnoticed as coffee cups, peanut shells and magazines found there way around them.

Then it happened! Leanna came to visit her papa which is very usual as she scans quickly for the unusual while asking, where’s Nanny?

She settles quickly and busies herself around our place entertaining us with questions, dancing, coloring and the exciting energy that radiates from her little body.

Papa who’s this? In her hands she is holding the funeral cards. I sat down a moment and explained the first card, the one I felt most important. A beautiful painting/photo of Jesus. Oh yes this is Jesus, obviously familiar to her (great job mom and dad) but it was the second card who had her captivating interest. I kept it simple and said, he is papas friend Walter. She held her gaze on Walters gentle face for more than a few seconds while repeating his name. I found it comforting to know maybe it was just Walters way of thanking me for taking the ride and supporting his son on his burial day. Then placed the cards back down where they were.

Two days passed and Leanna once again arrived as I am pouring coffee in the kitchen area. Her presence always brings something brand new of value. A word, a phrase an outfit all flowing with the excitement of a new day only a happy two year old can bring.

After a few minutes she approaches me and instantly getting my attention, with her soft soothing voice, papa? And I, always responding, yes cookie manookie, she tells me. I’ve got Walter! In her tiny hand once again was his funeral card. You remember Walter, Leanna? Yes papa I do! She then gave Walter a bite of her 🍎!

This unfolding leaves me pondering, believing in the goodness and spirit of heart. I wonder if Walter will look after Leanna in all the days which follow. Out of the blue from out of this world, sharing his gentleness and kindness with her... “Whatever Will Be... Will be.... “

Walter J. MacDonald

THE WOBBLED WARBLER

4/8/2021

The Wobbled Warbler
I saw a little bird
Fall down and
Bump his head

So I picked
Him up and
Rubbed it

Thanks is
What he said

Then I thought
More about him

My feathered little friend

Not the time for his life
Or this poem to end

My best eye caught
It's lightning flash

The other blinded
By the sun

Then I heard
The banging crash

Both kin to
The smoking barrel
Of a fired gun

This sight and sound
I've known to well
For years I've been around

Picked up big
And smaller things
Almost every time they fell

Looking out from inside
I can tell you
What's in store

One moment free
As this little bird

The next lying
On deaths door

It's what happens
Between the two

Explained is this mighty word
Known to man as WILL

Discussed with many
Points of view

But best sung
By this little bird
On your window sill

SANTIAGO

4/7/2021

SANTIAGO

A tiny three room bungalow

Built of sand and stone

In the Cuban village of Cojimar

Is where Santiago made his home

Seated on a chair designed

Of fine french cane

A smokey plume from a corona cigar

Descends upon a timbered

Antique picture frame

Clutched in worn and weathered hands

Embraced are nostalgic portraits

Taken with this Spanish man

Revered is a bygone name

He spoke how he felt the rumble

As Pilars mighty engines cranked

Waking snarled yards of coon’s tail

Along the intracoastal scenic banks

He bore witness to her many moorings

Near to the famed La Terazza cafe

Looking down toward the ground

His eyes and heart both blue

Sadly missed is the boastful booming

Voice Of the greatest man he ever knew

His honcho Hemingway

Pamplona politics religion Havana

Still charming young and old

Yet lost in Donne’s translation

Is for whom the bells doth toll

But as for Capitan Gregorio Fuentes

Santiago he’ll always be

As Ernest’s leading character in

THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA

RUBY KNOWS

RUBY KNOWS

Out Of The Blue From Out Of This World

THE WOBBLED WARBLER

SANTIAGO

GOODBYE

LISTEN

SPRING

TRUE

MARGARET

EXPECTATIONS

JAY

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