People Under the Moon

That's my grandfather, on the left, in his moonshiner days. Apparently moonshiners generally wore fedoras. An old man at a local deli two days ago got a kick out of seeing me in mine as it reminded him of his own grandfather, also a moonshiner. I've been going through a lot of family photos at the home of my recently deceased father here in Tennessee.

Here's one of me around 25 years ago, unknowingly emulating my grandfather's style. I'm with my father and grandmother.

There were lots of photos of me, most of which I didn't care for. I kind of like this one in which I have some fish.

Sonnet 1988

Approaching time returns the leaves to dust.
They left a shade about the living wights.
A dappled tomb resists encroaching rust.
A troupe of empty sockets take the sights.
A ragged band descends the verdant hill.
The gang still play guitars, trombones, and drums.
They form a ring around a copper still.
The morning liquor quites the group in sums.
But living viewers, note the silence reigns.
Beyond an echo, spirit voices speak.
As spirits fill a cup and deathless veins.
A figure plants a flag atop the peak.
As songs unheard enrich our quiet dreams,
The dust will dance in palid morning beams.