In fun of the Sun, we ran the green grass of May
we did our baseball, from sun up to sundown
there was never dismay as we played days away
‘til the Moon watched in sorrow, and wound the game down
we never worried if we lose, or we win
we had so much fun we never kept score
we played all day, until the Moon was above us
it was the game we loved, and never a war!
the stars heard us talk about the playing our game
who was better-was it Mantle, or was it Mays?
our thoughts on tomorrow when we’d play again
it’s our game of baseball, in so many ways
we got started early playing catch in the morning
we mowed the field to make it just right
gunny sacks of sand made into bases
stragglers assembled in the cool morning light
the green grass of Earth, the bright Sun above
the sound of the game, we’d heard it all Winter
like the bat hits the ball; like the ball hits the glove
there was no other joy, to compare with that feeling,
than baseball, the guys, and a Summer of love
after the Fall, there will always be baseball
defending your Earth, is worth every fray
the memory of moments we all can recall
of the strike out, the base hit, the spectacular play!
it was not just a game, it was life, it was all
even rich men can’t borrow tomorrow
Nothing compares to the fun that it brings
after the game, there’s never a sorrow
because-
at the end of the season, there’s always a Spring

Joe

The Moon slips through the net-bound hooded clouds of hazy cover
into the early morning; it evokes the whereabouts of the Trees.
Shadow’s drawers creep across the covert, purple world.
The storm is coming; the storm is coming!
While we are there, while they are here,
we build the wall to keep our friends out;
we look away, so our enemies can stay inside.
We don’t see what we need to see.
We build the wall to the south; what about the north?
While we are there, they are here.
The storm is coming; the storm is coming!
When dust flies, the eyes close.
When snow falls, the ground is white,
hiding all the refuse that lies beneath,
concealing the enemy of goodness.
Though it has the appearance of beauty, it covers a certain terror.
The storm is coming; the storm is coming!

Frayed gray, from past Winter’s chewed and gnarling warts, the limb clings life.
The old battle scars go deep into the womb of its wounded trunk;
Tree holds the limbs, who hold the world; surely its wisdom is canyons!
Breed, to the limbs, the wild child of the seasons. When they fall, they fall for all else;
it is a sacrifice so great as to be heralded in Kings of color.
The Tree is the true, and only, soldier of the Nature.
The brisk Wind that comes, in a brotherhood with Storm,
takes cause to those who breathe, to take refuge from the elements of the Nature’s ways.
Taking its shower, rendering out the weak, and allowing the strong to her care.
The reverence leaves a blessed sort to continue in the life, and way, of the Earth.
Those who parish, in seasonal forgiveness, feed the earth for generations.
There is no cause greater than this.
Comes the Sun, from the rage, to celebrate survival.
None remorse of the loss, from their struggle; there is no suffering.
There is, left to the Earth, only the beauty of what is still, the Nature.
There is no time in the Nature. She can only be forever.
Humans, flawed, make the words; she, in perfection, is this infinite being building the awe.
There is no human thought can breech her doubtless conception.
We are mere to her breath, servant to her soul, humbled by Storm.
She breathes now, a softened sigh, to holy our human eyes with wonder.
Her willingness to be her self has us in terror, intrigue, and hope;
she is just this child, this long-lost, everlasting child.

Joe

They set a record for cold here yesterday 22 degrees!). My brother in law is blaming my wife and I for bringing it from Iowa. Obviously, we don't have that kind of power...do we, God?
We went to the Blue Ridge mountains yesterday. The valley below Lover's Leap was spectacular, just like Terri Hatcher's tits!
No, my wife and I did not do "the leap!". Although I did scratch our names on the leaping rock. It was covered with names of lovers who'd been there. I wonder how many of them leaped!
Any way, we had a great time seeing the mountains and despite my Mother in law falling down, we were happy with the trip. We went into North Carolina. It's funny how I had this uncontrollable urge to slip a chaw of tobacco in my mouth and spit!
Damn, Cigarettes are cheaper in Iowa than they are in North Carolina!
That just don't seem right, you know!
Talk later abour more imlportant things. Like it looks like the Republicans are making a good run at this election. Too bad, the Democrats got a little bit over-confident.
See ya'
Joe

I'm in Virginia, and what a difference a day makes!
We left Iowa on Monday; it was 73 degrees (God was testing our Iowa abilties to withstand his tricky schizto). The next day it was 27 degrees in Iowa. We were in Moline, illinois and outran the cold by minutes. Now we're safely in Virginia and enjoying an 81 degree day. I am so impressed with Danville, Virginia. The foliage is beautiful, with red-orange-green Trees that bless the eyes.
I haven't gotten any words about the novel, but who cares, it pretty out, and a wonderful day.
I hope you are all having a great time.
It's funny, my Brother in-law moved here from Danville, Iowa. He tells people he's from Danville. They say: "Well, you sure do talk funny!" (that's my favorite yellow-head).
Everybody have a great day,
Joe