Ode to Henbit

You, most persistent of weeds,
first bloom of spring,
clump of heavy green foliage
and tiny pink horned blooms.

You are the favorite
of children’s first bouquet,
their tiny fists filled with your
pungent aroma, fresh sodded scent.

You are the bane of my garden
and lawn. You arrive when spring
rains so steadily, and thrive
in the cool April air.

You are everlasting and everlasting.
Out living all others, to return
from tiny seeds,sown in the damp
cool earth, to return next year,

henbit again and again and again.

Ode on a Rocking Chair

LaLocke's Rocking Chair

Her form common until on deeper reflection
The grace and subtle beauty gleam forth
Her origins the ancient southern forest
Sturdy hickory chosen as her spine
Fragrant pine became her ribs
His hands formed each piece
Whittled and scraped to the exacting
Measurements of her owners frame
A precious gift of time and love
Hers for a half century after his death
A comfort to body and soul

Layered color is revealed in your wear
Painted to brighten the Crossett gray
On house after house in the company town
Telling the history of rooms long gone
And the charm of the one
Who rested in your arms

O fortunate child to receive such a treasure
Handed down, an afterthought
But now held in high honor
She will rock the generations
As she did a century ago
To the rhythm of his love and devotion