Rosie and Toby

I once knew a bishon named Rosie

Who loved to nudge on my tosies

She'd sneak next to me, wherever I be-zy

And follow whever I goes-ie

She lived with a kitty named toby

With whiskers as long as her nosey

If Rose is not there, her food to to defendy

Gone it will be in a frenzy

Though Toby and Rosie aren't friendsies

They share their space and their peep-sies

As canine and feline are oft known to be-zy

Compatible  friends as they need-zy

It will be more entertaining if you can imagine the voice of Gru or read it aloud in the voice of Gru.

Sweet Rosie

Mr Toby

      

Granny's Song

 I wrote this several years ago, just after we lost Granny. She was an enduring lady, in that she survived many hardships to thrive during her lifetime. She worked her entire adult life until she retired and she struggled through two strained marriages while raising four children.  I believe she had great passion for those whom she loved and she stood tall against those who challenged her.

Granny was not a complainer, not a blamer, not one to criticize the ways of others. If she did not agree with someone, she didn't belittle them or drown them in a flood of overt judgement or criticism, she just didn't say anything. A trait which I admired greatly in this lady of great inner strength and stoicism. This is my "Song to Granny"

Granny’s Song

“If you can’t say something nice,

Don’t say anything at all”

If all your thoughts are mean

Don’t try to make me small

Take yourself to a higher plane

With loftier thoughts and sweet

Think of the good that others do

Though plagued with faults replete

For we know not what pain they bear

What struggles they endure

And the words you speak may cut one deep

Though innocent and pure

So, mind your words and tone each time

Before you speak or call,

“If you can’t say something nice,

Just don’t say anything at all”

Happy St Patrick's Day 2022

   It must be St Patrick's Day.

I saw a green-wumped warbler this morning.

Lament of the Myrtle Warbler

 

I wish that splotch on my wump was smaller

Or the spots on my side were brighter by much

Then folks wouldn't look at my wump and laugh

'Cause the color 's all bright and yeller as such

Now you may think I came from a fish

But I think that God had a hand in my makin'

He put spots of color all o'er me

So you could look till your fill was takin'

Yes, I've spots on my head and on my sides

The older I get the brighter they show

I'm a beautiful bird that flitters and flits

The more you see, the fonder you grow.

No reprints or copies of poem or pics without express consent of author, David L Warbritton.

Your life path is like a tree

 

As I drove into Hagan-Stone Park,  I noticed this awesome oak tree on the first trail on the left. I don't know if I have ever seen a tree branch with so many changes in direction. Obviously something happened every few years to cause the branch to take a turn in  a new direction. Maybe another branch provoked it to twist , or maybe someone intervened to cause a change in it's path. Whatever, the limb has continued growing, in spite of the challenges, and it continues to protrude into it's next phase. I doubt if trees have a growth plan, but I bet this one didn't expect so many changes on course. 

How much like life is this. We, of course, have no plan at the beginning, we are dependent on others to guide and shape us and prepare us for the future. As we mature, we shape our own desires but things don't necessarily go as planned. How much like this limb would our life path look if we were a tree. Opportunity drives our direction, and sometimes lack of opportunity. We move from coast to coast, planting seeds; hoping and wishing that things will go the way we plan. But it seldom does. Sometimes illness intervenes and causes severe alterations to our life scheme. No human life limb goes perfectly straight without twists and turns. We may look as curved and deviated as this tree limb as we veer through the obstacles that beset us. As for myself, I see a heavenly father waiting at each turn and providing a way to survive and waiting to lift me out of my circumstances.

I don't know about you, but if I were a tree limb, I think I might be even more twisted than this one. I have survived numerous attempts to divert my path, but I have persisted through the great hope that God provides. My faith sustains me and lifts me through every challenge.

What would your limb look like?

Is Valentines Overrated?

 I’ve always thought that Valentine’s Day was overrated. I mean really, do you have to have a special day to say that you love your sweetheart? I don’t think so. My sweetheart and I have been married almost twenty years now and we tell each other every day that we love each other; most of the time, we say the words, but we demonstrate it too. She brings a fresh hot steaming cup of coffee to wherever I’m sitting every morning; she brushes her cheek against mine, and smiles at me with that look that I know she gives to no one else. I make up the bed because I’m the last to get out of it, I bag up the trash without being asked, I help her carry her things to the door when she leaves from home, and we give each other a huge hug before we’re out of the door. She’s my girlfriend, my best friend and the best thing that ever happened to me, so why do we need one day each year to make a big fuss over our love. We tell each other “I love you” every day, and if I didn’t say it yet today, “I love you Sweetie”.

   I suppose it’s the candy makers, the valentine card manufacturers, and the floral industry that perpetuate the necessity for everyone to single out this day to convey our love and affection. I’m sure they sell enormous amounts of all three for this special day. Actually, Cheryl and I have agreed that none of them are necessary; in fact, she encourages me to buy candy on the day after Valentines when it is at half-price and she always discourages me from spending money on flowers. In any case, she is not that fond of candy and knows that I am buying it for myself instead of her anyway. We usually do exchange cards, but if we didn’t, we wouldn’t care. Our love isn’t measured by candy and cards, or flowers on a single day, it’s calculated by the way we behave toward each other every day of our lives. We aren’t perfect, but we really try to make each other feel loved and appreciated.
   I should say that Valentines day might mean more than you think to some other members of your family. When my oldest daughter, Mendy, was a little girl, I gave her and her Mom a box of chocolates. Hers was a miniature of the big box and it had a big pink bow across the top. I actually bought the candy before Valentines Day and delivered it on time with a special card. As a Dad, I just wanted to let her know that I loved her too. She recently informed me that the box of candy meant more to her than I ever knew; it made her feel special and important in a way that only a little girl could understand about her Dad.
   Occasionally, some inadvertant event takes place that none of us are prepared for. Several years ago, while I was recovering from open-heart surgery, it snowed just before Valentines Day. It was brutally cold and promised to be a miserable Valentine’s Day. Cheryl had made a heart-shaped cake to take to work and share with her friends. Her hands were full as she started for the garage door, so I grabbed the cake and hustled it out to the car in front of her. As she followed, she closed the door behind her to keep the house warm for me. My surgery had been around Halloween and I was recovering nicely, but I was still weak. I kissed her goodbye and waved as she drove out the drive and headed down the street. I could see my breath fogging as I closed the garage door and turned to get back in the warm house.
   It was locked! And I was locked out of the house! Somehow, with her hands full and in a hurry to leave, she had still managed to follow her habit of locking the door behind her. Now, consider that I was standing in my flannel pajamas with nothing on but a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of furry house shoes to keep me warm. And it was cold. No cell phone, no phone in the garage and no extra keys hidden in the garage to get me back in. It was early morning and I had not shaved, brushed my teeth or even combed my hair before I stepped out the door. My options were few; Cheryl would not arrive at work for 15-20 minutes and I really didn’t know the neighbors that well, and it was too cold to just stay in the garage for a long period of time. I tucked my pajama pants legs into my house shoes to cover my bare feet, found an old pair of cotton gloves in the garage and headed out the door. My office was only six blocks away and it would, at least, be warm there. I trudged through the snow and slush and thought to myself “Happy Valentines Sweetheart, I hope you are enjoying your cake.” After a few minutes, I slipped into my office and asked a friend to drive me out to Cheryl’s workplace, so I could get keys for my house. She thoroughly examined me, stifled an urge to burst out laughing and agreed to help me. She dropped me off at the front door of Cheryl's office building and I shuffled inside.
   I managed to slip through the main lobby and gain access into the elevator alone. When I stepped onto the third floor lobby I stood pathetically, as the vagrant I was. They have probably never seen a sorrier-looking character call at the front desk of her office. The receptionist gauged me carefully, noting my unusual garb, and cautiously inquired what I might possibly need from their company. Her hand seemed poised over a secret alarm button to summon the armed guards. As I explained that I was Cheryl’s husband, I could envision her brain telling her, “Sure Buster, and I’m the Queen of England”; but she finally agreed to call for my bride. She warily spoke into the phone, ”Cheryl, your husband is here to see you” as she cut her narrowed eyes toward me.
   Cheryl came right out, not knowing what to expect, but thinking that I was bringing her a Valentine surprise. One look at me and she knew exactly what had happened. We laughed as I told her the details; the receptionist at last removed her hand from the button and breathed a sigh of relief. My Valentine gave me the car keys and the house keys and I was finally able to drive home and get back into our warm and cozy home.
   If I had been waiting for Valentines Day so my true love could affirm her love; I would have been in a world of hurt. I knew she loved me; that she didn’t intend to lock me out of the house, or cause me to have to walk six blocks in the snow. She didn’t plan my discomfort, in fact, she assuaged my distress as soon as she arrived home from work, by making me some of her world famous hot chocolate. I still buy half-price candy the day after Valentines Day, and we usually exchange a card on Valentines Day. And don’t forget that you may need to include your children, so they can feel special too. But Cheryl and I show our love to each other every day, and that’s the way it should be. After almost twenty years, my betrothed still brings me that steaming hot cup of coffee every morning, and I can’t remember a day that she doesn’t look over at me and say, ”Have I told you today that I love you?” I think she means it. I know I do.

Once Again

 My rhyme is true, there is no doubt

My love for you makes Heaven shout

I long to kiss and hold you tight

Just one more glimpse of you in sight

Just one more squeeze  of your sweet hand

Will lead me to that promised land

If parting is such sweet sorrow

Then what bliss awaits the morrow

When once again we are united

On Heaven's shore, where we're invited.

Written by David L Warbritton in February 2022 and no reprints without permission.