Memorial Day

I drive extra slow while on cemetery lanes
Pausing every so often with thoughts I maintain.
Just names and two dates summing up someone’s life,
Beginning and ending; a father and his wife.

Too much to say with chisel and rock,
Thousands of moments, more than just one talk
Action and words often would cause a tangle
Necessity and words strike an hard obtuse angle.

A string of life’s moments, all decisions made,
Held tight in memory to serve as my aide
A push and a pull will help steer my way,
A head full of memories to help me this day.

– Clarence Holm

I’ll be on a little trip for a few days

The results came back from my MRI, confirming a 5 cm tear in the tendons holding my left rotator cuff with a 4 cm retraction of the muscles. -Basically the muscles have torn away from the top of my shoulder and contracted.

The muscles needs to be trimmed and pulled back into position then reattached. My shoulder will be immobilized for a number of weeks, followed by physical therapy.

The good news is I am right handed and with good coaching I should be available to pitch right handed relief for the Minnesota Twins playoff run.

Still I am scared as the surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning. The doctor says I will be out of it for a few days (due to my fear of pain and willingness to utilize any type of pain killer at my disposal)

Anyway see you all in a few days- Here for your enjoyment are my last words in a whining senryu

Cold steel cuts warm flesh
Comprehension put to sleep
Wake me when it’s done

– Clarence Holm

On Coming Home To The Farm

Remembering a sunny July day
On a freshly turned field.
With a tractor idling forward and
Dragging grandpa’s old stone boat.

I followed along as the sun grows high
Roasting my pale skin brown.
Many hours pass by in endless furrows
With cool earth between my toes.

Quartzite cracked by weather
And tumbled by glacier drift
Buried deep in Dakota Prairie
Then squeezed up from their rest.

Rocks lifted by many seasons
Then tugged from the ground
Carried a short distance
And tossed into the skid.

The engine cracked and rumbled
Misfiring under choke
The flywheel kept a rhythm
While the tractor slowly lurched along.

Water crocks wrapped in burlap
Kept mostly in the shade.
Heavenly liquid provisions,
Were sipped slowly throughout the day.

When the load got too heavy
We climbed aboard the rocks
Headed to a slough bed
And tossed them to the edge.

Through years of toil the pile would grow
And sheltered forms of life
Fox roamed among the cracks
Some dug a family’s den.

The prairie sky keeps shinning down
And it seems the days are hotter
I walk the field and look around
And see more rocks need picking.

– Clarence Holm