Cloudy with a Chance of Change – Conclusion

Gusts and lightning, hurricanes
Tornadoes, floods, torrential rains
The Captain lashes to the wheel –
Character – an even keel.

Speaking of the weather,
Let not these words dismay –
Change may be a feather
That falls on who it may,

But each is her own Captain,
Her well marked maps abound.
No feather tells a Captain
Which depths that she must sound.

 

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Cloudy with a Chance of Change

Speaking of the weather,
I think it’s safe to say,
Change is like a feather
That falls on who it may.

It flits, it floats, it falling, flies,
Emits a casual lift of ties,
But not for easy, not for cheap.
Its shoulder queasy wants to keep

The ties that bind, the merry smiles
The hearty find, the traveled miles.
The bearer, weighted down with change,
Does find the passage dim and strange.

And wanting still to hold that place –
The people, friendships, love, and grace –
Doth reach both ways but stands so still,
The future frays the battled will.

And so she knows the change must win,
And freeing courage deep within,
Releases anchors founded here.
Tucks safe the memories held so dear,

And lets the winds of fortune wail,
The goals she’s set – the billowed sail.
So waving, frantic that they’ll see
She cuts the mooring, cruises free.

The sunset forward, history aft,
Heartaches cried and funnies laughed,
A ballast full of lessons learned,
Friendships forged, demons burned –

The Captain sets a course for Then,
Embraces now, begins again.
So Change unfettered, rides the clock
And elsewhere seeks another dock.


 

Tune in for the conclusion of this self-fulfilling prophecy on December 20th.

Grady’s Childhood Inspiration

Cowboy profile artGrady did Western art.  The way she explained it – her childhood hero was Clint Eastwood.  She was entranced with his imagery on the screen and the “cowboy motif,” based on his example.  “I used to walk around chewing the end of a beef jerky stick, like the outlaw, Josie Wales, and his cigarillo.  I ate beans right from the skillet with a wooden spoon, wore button down shirts and threadbare trousers, and Jack scolded me more than once for smudging dirt on my face to achieve that rough shaven look.”

“So you were a cross-dresser before you knew you were gay?”  I joked.

“Hush your mouth!” she teased, “All kids play around with costumes and characters.  I just couldn’t get over the walk, you know?  I didn’t think of that stance or walk as manly.  I was just fascinated to walk as if all life fulfilling chi originated and radiated from a bulge in my crotch,” she giggled.

“I am not going to ask.” I said.

“It’s probably best you don’t.”