Sage Saga Of A Home On A Hill (Apropos The Reunion)

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Sage Saga Of A Home On A Hill

Having drank from the sun at meridian,

The moon drunk with the light

Of reflection, always dissipated dreaded darkness

Seeking to veil the Hill—Raised bump

Of nature’s glowing face;

This swollen womb of nature nourishing beginnings

Of generations plodding centuries wounded

With trials and tribulations—Grand Canyon invisible walls

Mocking the abyss of Middle Passage ocean depths

Carpeted with ivory bone trees rattled by circadian waves

Splashing stilled sandy sea shore stones sunken in time.

Beginnings begin with the eruption of sunlight;

Rays flowing lava-like to chloroplast genes

Of generations of quantum leaping Greens

Synthesizing seminal spirits spewing

Audacious faith—audacious faith blooming

Mushroom cloud determination rising

As a risen national family tree;

Branches thrusting tentacles forever upward.

Streaming through, flows a river Brazos

Whose residents often crawled, netted and hooked

Their way to the Hill—accepting all aching

To give or receive freely—nourishment.

A gumbo gathering of love supreme;

Charged sable soul soars—sailing

Pillow puffed verandah skies;

Stoking old horizons—searching

Mountain top promise land dreams.

Where I have been I have just begun to go;

Returning to the beginning—

To tap the toasted roots anchoring the journey’s

 Design—etched beneath the shade of limbs

Of an ancient Chinaberry tree

Looking out over the Hill—

Shadowing shelled street that oysters built.

The senior poem now resonate an ebony perspective:

“…It’s sweet to dream of Venice…It’s great to think of Rome…

But when it comes to living…There’s no place like home…

So it’s home again and home again for me…” 

My Hill—My home…My family tree.  Here I grew; here I be.