Poetry on Wings

The village of Laurie is a small village (population 51) located
in the French region of Auvergne. Photo by Scott Tucker.

The Bells of Laurie

Cobblestone
Streets disappear
Into morning mist
Where lavender
Blooms like
Purple lace in

Alpine fields.

Dirt paths,
Kissed by dew,
Follow a rainbow
Of butterflies
Dancing over
Shades of yellow

Daffodils.

The scent of
Wild flowers
Fills the air with
Sweetness.
Lilies wait to be
Picked by June

Brides.

The first rays
Of sun slip past
The arms
Of a breeze
To where sparrows
Play on church

Steps.

The steeple
Points to the heavens
As a new day begins
And the bells
Of Laurie chime
To bless every breath

The village takes.

James Scott Tucker – Nov. 30, 1971-April 24, 2011

We miss you my son.  You are always in our hearts!

 
WALK SOFTLY

Moon light
Falls
Upon the images
Kept within

Our hidden
Selves.

Silent ghosts
Pause like rain
That sits above
The clouds

Waiting
Thunders call.

And when
The rain falls
Memories of you
Walk softly

By.

Sandy Lulay

My Montana grandchildren off on an adventure!

Innocence

Summers sparkled
With sunlight on the creek.
Bare feet following laughter.
Wet grass between our toes.

Moments too intense
Whispered through the trees,
Speckled trout and butterflies
Play hide and seek.

Bedtime found us
Waiting up for star light,
To see if flowers closed
Their petals when they sleep.

The cover of night
Soon found us fast asleep.
Innocence curled up
On the front porch swing.

FRIENDS
(A wedding blessing)
May the lakes never shrink
Nor the rivers run dry,
May you always be playmates
In the rain that washes
The tears from your eyes

LITTLE GIRL

Little girl
When did you grow so?
When did you go so far away
To the woman you’ve become?

Little girl
Only yesterday you played
Chalk in hand, hair in braids,
Skipping squares in the driveway.

Little girl
Graduating in high heels,
On your way to meeting life.
Meeting him and married so soon.

Little girl
It is said summer wears
A straw hat of pretty moments
Rich in grace, full of gladness.

Little girl
When I walk down the street
Where you played it’s me wearing
My straw hat of put away memories.

Little girl
It’s me looking for you.
You in the gladness, you in the grace.
It’s me following summer

Seeing you everyday

Little girl.

Frog peeking out of a rose after the rain. Photo taken by my late son Scott Tucker.

After The Rain

After the rain
Spring wheat
Exchanges
Marriage vows

With the fertile ground.

One by one
Eagles sail across
The valleys
Face. I wave.

From this
Granite ledge
Solitude
Finds me

Gathering dream

Laughter,
Following
A dirt road
That

Disappears
Into the pines
Where strife ends
At the last

Telephone pole.

Remembering my love and mothers love for horses.
She loved riding Burgundy through the Catskills mountains with
me on her lap when I was a toddler.

This photo was taken in Stevensville, MT at the end of October 2011

BURGUNDY

The brown eyes
Of Autumn
Reflect to me
The woodland trails
I once rode
With Burgundy.

Early mornings
Snapped
With icy air,
A reminder
Jack Frost
Had been here.

Red squirrels
And rabbits would
Stop to tease
Along the paths
Of red
On gold leaves.

Now…

As summer
Turns to fall
And trees
Wait for sleep,
I miss Burgundy
And the
Crayoned hills.

Christmas 2012 in Las Vegas.  Alan enjoying the tree and I loved the gifts – of course!  The hotels were lovely with every one decorated for Christmas.

Men Verses Women

Men…
I have learned
Put life in boxes
Thinking they will not
Survive the mixing up of
Things.

Women…
They like taking
Things apart,
So the find it difficult
To leave the boxes
Closed!

On the beach
The night is hot.
She stands secretly
By the fire,
Burning every trace
From where she came,
Surrendering to earth
Beyond belief.

Her  blood
Spills down
Upon the flames
To stain the sand
Where he once stood
Lit by another
More ancient fire.

She kneels down
To reclaim
Her lost peace
Before the alter
Disappears,
In smoke and ashes

Returning her new blood
To alien green!

Smith Creek, Montana

Somewhere walking on Smith Creek trail, Montana summer 2012

SOMEWHERE

Somewhere
A stream flows pink with blood,
A forest screams,
A village burns,
A tear seals a coffin.

Somewhere
A bride is dressed in white,
A baby is conceived,
Violets bloom in a front yard
Defying war.

Somewhere
A soldier yearns
For the gentle lotion
Of love
Only a wife can give.

Somewhere
A ray of goodness
Struggles against suppression,
Reaching, as truth limps away
On crushed toes.

Somewhere
Someone is sowing the seeds of hate,
The pain of it bruises the soul,
The rage of it prepares for
Perpetual resurrection.

Somewhere
Humanity staggers down a lonely street
Pushed by deaths chant,
A hungry child weeps,
Hate smiles upon the tears.

Somewhere
While a mother prays for food,
She hears rage preaching.
Somewhere the violets have disappeared
And so has a soul.