Lawthorn Cemetery by Jay Hill Poem

[Lester Curtis]

Or let me phrase that slightly different...

In August, hopefully I will celebrate 41 years of learning things the hard way. Every time!

I've got a head start on you, Jay; I turn 64 tomorrow.

Credit to you, though, you're catching up pretty quick.

[Lester Curtis]

Thank you, Jay. Wonderful poem, by the way; it has such a grand, slow rhythm to it, so in keeping with its theme.

I
Still cannot give You a life of stone and wood and
Bones, a soul in Your soil, sitting
On hallowed ground; pedestaled footsteps, pedestaled
Seasons, ever as You are, we are not.

That's the trouble with deities, though; we just can't relate to them any better than they relate to us.

[Lester Curtis]

Got any big plans for your birthday tomorrow?

Well, I was going to try to hide from it . . .
There's going to be a free concert (some local band I never heard of) at a public park nearby, so I'll roll out there on my scooter. I found some old brass bells in the basement -- a cowbell and a few smaller ones for goats or something; I might take those along and see if the drummer will give me a few bucks for 'em. MORE COWBELL!!

[Lester Curtis]

Thank you! I'm not much of a poet, like I said before, but this one sort of came to me in a flash. I just held on to the keyboard and watched the words fly across the page.

Don't ya love it when that happens? And when it's done, you just look at it and go, "Waugh -- !"