Sadly, last night when I couldn’t sleep and began to remember a good friend from years ago living in Alabama, so I googled him only to discover his obituary from 2010 while I was working in the UAE.  I cried for him and for me.

Mostly, because he “Gardener” was so young and I remembered the vibrant personable Southern gentleman kindly helping me along the way my first year in Alabama.  I remembered him as described in the posting as a “true Southern gentleman.”

To him, I leave this poem from those days of living on the Gulf and to the remembered gentleness of the South.   Those days have left us but somewhere within; they left me a better person for having experienced them.


South of the Boarder   


Lying nestled in orange crates

Two halves

Half by half by half

One by one along to eight on eight

Claws picked out by tweezers

Nestled in a bed of lettuce next to the Times Picayune

Playing words and joining spirit

Saluting a tumbler of ice cold beer

And your neighbors down South.