James Lee Jobe
—Poetry by James Lee Jobe, Davis, CA
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of James Lee Jobe
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of James Lee Jobe
The fat candle fizzled out in the hot wax just as the fresh sunrise began to color the morning sky. Timing is an interesting thing, isn’t it? The length of a coincidence. How does one measure things that are random? James, you old white-beard, all night you sat in that chair and now it is time to get up and greet yet another day of living. What time is it? The same time as always: now.
You can struggle endlessly for perfection, but what you achieve is a perfectly endless struggle. As I tell you this, it is a perfectly glorious summer morning.
Dew on the grass in the warm morning sun.
Mount Diablo, tall in the gray distance.
Summer.
Singing while I walk.
Mount Diablo, tall in the gray distance.
Summer.
Singing while I walk.
When you can love yourself as you are, it becomes easier to love the others who are around you, and when you learn how to forgive yourself, you also know how to forgive others. Love and forgiveness go hand in hand in hand.
There are moments, not days, just moments, when I can forgive myself and love myself, and in those moments I am whole, complete, and not the mere shell of a man who has loved a son and buried him.
But the moments pass.
It’s not too late for joy.
The dust of the afternoon has room to spare
and then some.
The shallows of a human heart make for easy wading,
it feels good on the feet.
Open the door,
take to the cracks of the broken pavement.
It’s not too late to break free.
Everything that makes a life golden
is already in your possession.
It’s not too late to find your own true north.
It’s not too late for joy.
Start right now.
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
The lone hunter stalking the lone deer. Just past sunrise. The sound of a footstep snapping a twig.
—James Lee Jobe
__________________
—Medusa, thanking James Lee Jobe for today's post, and wishing him many happy returns!
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
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Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
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Just remember:
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clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
