Tim and Marguerite


Poems for Margery's Mom and Dad


He closes and locks the office door 
Breathing an Iowa sigh and 
Leaves the day behind. 
He drives the elm-lined street 
Past the corn fields and the trailer park. 
Changing into white coveralls, 
He dons the gloves and the veiled bonnet, 
Ties the ankles and the sleeves and 
Grabs the smoker. 

"I have another life 
Beneath the trees near the lilac bushes. 
I live this life vicariously 
With my honeybee family. 
I marvel at their clean, white-housed society. 
Like me, they have little time 
For foolish frivolity. 
Everyone pulls their weight, 
Toiling from dawn to dusk, 
Dancing their directional dance, 
Flying until wings fray and fall. 
Bees have no time for ease 
They work without complaint. 
Their pollen paycheck 
Is their only compensation. 

Yet, where is their family? 
Larvae grown into worker and drone 
Where is their love? 
Metamorphosized into loyalty. 
Marguerite, I seldom tell, but 
I love you and our family  
Past love unto loyalty.
You are the queen bee of 
My busy existence.


Barefoot girl with cheeks of tan

Perched in the crotch 

Of a sycamore tree
She looks down at her world

With glad advantage

Waiting for her life to unfold

With the Iowa seasons

and the Prairie Life.

From her front porch

She spies her schoolboy hero
Little does he know

What fate awaits 

In her

Deep, dark eyes.

Pools of wisdom

Flow with honesty and

Compassion benign

A twinkle of fun
A joke...just a touch risque
Mixes with the

Strength in her face
She is

The earth's salt
A reflection of forbears

For whom she cares and

Whose memory she reveres

For her husband and children

Patience appears
The force of her life

Is as mother and wife

The strength of her heart is
The salt of her tears.

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