Robert Jeffrey Eardley

Robert Jeffrey Eardley Dr. William Belford ENGL- November 21, 2016 Grandpa Old Spice crinkling up my nose. Lighthouse reveals the rocks at night. Warm hugs warming down to my toes Strong hands turning out the light. My prodigal tongue lit with hellfire Angry obscenities close to his ear God’s heart is saddened by your words and your ire. Honest contrition alone God will hear. Never shouting, sharp eyes stabbing Flesh and soul were his to bend. Taught not by whipping nor collar grabbing Hands and voice were used to mend. Then in one stroke, his voice lost its pace. Thunderheads heavy their salt drops to shed Eternal Home’s Sun shone warm on his face. Earthly shell sowed with flowers in bed. Son soon becomes Father, Snow melts for spring. Tiny toes find a pathway in the footprints they find. An old man’s actions wrote the song that I sing. May my psalms, touch my sons, in their hearts and their minds. Time Black veil of silk that quiet stalks The seasons of the world it walks. Hourglass filled with sands so fine It turns the red grapes into wine. Black hurricane from age to age That boils the salty brine to rage. Time’s a game in falling sands It slips then grips with cold, steel bands. Mighty Achilles in Priam’s land Still faced Thanatos and felt his hand While castles crumble and forests rot. It fills the hungry black vulture’s pot. It rings the bells from town to town And grinds the mighty mountains down. Raises the staff of life so tall And tombs it fills from wall to wall. It has a face and yet no head If you don’t believe it, ask the dead. It moves like wind, unbound and unseen It makes leaves fall and turns winters green. Golden pendulum, teeth and gears Still no key to turn back years Bloody tyrants shredding steel Black-hearted wolves that hear no appeal.