17
" I heard a rapid alternation of notes,
a vibrating staccato of an ancient instrument,
nearly as old as nature herself,
a cricket singing
in my garden last night,
the first time this year.
When turning my garden's soil,
I often uncover crickets,
curmudgeons that scramble to find solitude
and cover from the light,
but I rarely hear their
ancient song 'till near
summer's end.
Although the wind is now lofting the branches
and rustling the leaves,
the evening sun
still warms my face.
And my garden still blooms full
with pink-papered hollyhocks
and blue, green spikes of lavender,
and roses,
bright pinks and yellows,
all glowing from sunshine-swelled canes,
and zinnias,
rainbow-shingled orbs,
and more.
And yet, I am already dreading
the coming of fall,
all dressed in small rags
of red, yellow, and orange.
I know that my summer garden
is nearing its end,
as hailed by the cricket's song. "
― Jeffrey A. White , A Blueness I Could Eat Forever
19
" I don't have the words to describe my feelings.
A woman, the last thing I think of before falling asleep.
A woman, the first thing I think of when I wake.
A woman, the image that passes before my mind's eye
in a moment of clarity.
A woman, the hands we hold,
the one thing I miss most.
A woman, the laughter that warms my heart and soul.
A woman, the perfume that invokes wonderful memories.
A woman, the love, the love, the embrace, the joy,
the wonderful joy. "
― Jeffrey A. White , A Blueness I Could Eat Forever
20
" A few minutes ago, I felt as if I was back in Paris,
sitting in a park.
It is funny how our mind sometimes wanders
back to times past.
When each of my parents was dying,
floating in a sea of pain medication,
their minds drifted back to their early twenties
when they were newly in love.
They both talked as if they were lost,
and they had to find each other.
In one corner of my house,
I display some things that my parents cherished:
my mother's china
and my father's fishing gear.
I don't know if there is an afterlife,
but if their ghosts visit me someday,
then their cherished things will be waiting for them.
I also display photographs of my late parents,
not when they were old,
but when they were a newlywed couple,
young, happy, smiling
and full of hope
and love. "
― Jeffrey A. White , A Blueness I Could Eat Forever
