Inclined to Believe

The porch swing sways
carrying two worn souls
looking back
on two lovers
living in the moment
who became two expectant
parents planning their future

More than particles drifting
through space and time
The porch swing sways
baby blue paint cracking
on weathered wood
suspended by chains
crackling with rust
The porch swing sways
the gentle rock
back and forth
back and forth
the rhythmic pattern
of one life together
one continuous sway

© Gabriel Forsyth 2012

Cherokee

Sitting outside the 7-eleven,
I couldn’t help
but ask his name:
Cherokee.

His Mother was 100% Native.
He’s been going by that name since the 60’s.
Said he’s from Shreveport, Louisiana.
I should have guessed by the song in his words.

Said he has kids – 5 in Georgia, 5 in Texas, 1 in Florida.
Thought about trying to get a church
to buy him a bus ticket to go see them.
16 grandkids, only met a quarter of them.

Showed me his harmonica,
the only thing he’s never sold.
Played me a quick song, then said
“Yeah we made it big in Tennessee.”

Lived with a señorita
in Beaumont for about 7 months.
She tried to teach him Spanish,
But he couldn’t take working

in the grape fields.
Thought about going to Mexico,
but couldn’t understand the language.
Got hit by a car in Panama City,

and lived in a old folks home
until he was out of the wheel chair.
Then he hit the road again,
“goes where the wind blows.”

© Gabriel Forsyth 2012

Teacher’s Hands

Her two petite units of five,
soft and brown
like late fall leaves,
move back and forth
assisting her words
in preparing the young minds
sitting in the cluster of desks.

Her index finger glides along the page
like a model on a catwalk,
moving gracefully down each line.
As if practicing paleography,
she helps her students
find meaning in the words.

Her ring finger crowned
with a silver band, guarded
safely between the middle and little finger.

Her palms gently pat
shoulders as they pass by,
praising their performance
multiplying and dividing,
and waving them onto the bus.

© Gabriel Forsyth 2012