Ninety-eight in the Shade

Ninety-eight in the shade.

Frenzied for his lemonade

With great delight I take my place,

Savor his fruit, so sweet to my taste.

Forget this day some mermaid's coffee.

Let me rest at noon dreaming of Weeki Wachee.

Sunburnt I am, turning dark, but lovely.

Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, he loves me.

My sun-soaked 'hon' stands at the grill,

Flipping that others may get their fill,

Proclaims, "Behold, he stands behind our wall!

Shoo, you mite - you dare not stall!"

With barely a thought said mite steals weenies

Then races to see all the lovely bikinis.

Leaping he flies, a young stag, over grass parched -

A gazelle skipping on the lawn dry as starch.

"To love young, love seasoned," we raise rounded goblets.

He toasts to lips, lips "like a strand of scarlet,"

Says, "How beautiful are your feet in sandals.

Head to toe you eclipse the sun, earth's bright candle."

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Umbrellas at Pool, as seen from St. Simons

Lighthouse; Barbara Butler McCoy; August, 2009]]

Birthday Sonnet, the Third

This sole soul, that lone soul, circuit this globe

Beyond time, measure by measure, their feet

Graceful and precise beneath mercy's robe.

Their rhymes, their reasons making life complete.

Sunlight, dawn, and roses - word made flesh, bone.

Mere painted players, yet more, filling stage

After stage, stars to guide the lonely home.

It matters not one's nation, creed, or age.

Draw back the curtain, leave behind the lies

That pit the lost against the lost - darkness

Desolation gripping so many eyes.

Sun and stars, these loving souls end starkness.

His words light way to walk as others do.

His timeless phrases provide our cue.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Sky over Currituck Sound, NC; Barbara

Butler McCoy, November, 2010]]

Sage

No blackberries

trembling,

tempting twitterers

with juicy tidbits,

sustenance

No buds

'ere,

streaming by

o'er the shoulder,

distraction

No distance,

secluded

here, now,

silken slippers dusted,

serenity.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Stone statue in courtyard, January 12, 2011;

Barbara Butler McCoy]]

Venus

Venus

'Veni, vidi, vici' -

rising from sea foam,

stepping from out her shell.

Draped only in her virtue

she bears not arms -

nay - but patiently

the night of our terror.

Venus.

Herald of the conquering dawn.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Venus over the Atlantic;

November 27, 2010; Barbara Butler

McCoy]]

Dia de Los Muertes

Poets and peacemakers

along the way

before me, behind me -

me in between.

No better than any, nor worse -

simply walking, begging

Your pardon for the curses,

Your indulgence for the slips.

In Your continuum I tread -

the lines, etched into my palm -

stepping with the pulse

echoing since dawn.

We will carry it through

round and round again,

generation upon generation,

until the dreaming is done.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Barbara Butler McCoy;
Bee foraging for pollen; zoo,

Columbia, SC; September 2008]]

May 17, 1924 - South Bend, IN

I see her standing there

From the window by my chair

All loveliness and grace

Her face with dignity is traced

Yet soft, delicate as lace

My wish - to shield her from what may come

Wizards and Kluxers pour from the train

Coming to gather on the plain

Coming to protest her kind

The sons and daughters of Erin

They came, refugees from famine

The came to us, the free and the brave

Who resented their back-breaking labor

Blind to the practices employers favor -

Now it comes to rioting

What of this woman and her baby?

She drops to her knees and prays

I follow her gaze, and see Our Lady

Barbara Butler McCoy

(written 11.19.04)

[Photo: "Our Lady of Guadalupe," paint on tile, grotto at

St. Jude the Apostle, Atlanta, GA, 2009]

Birthday Sonnet, the Second

In the flower of days I turn my gaze

On those fabled glories of yesteryear

Lost to me in this vale of tears and haze.

How could I hope to purchase one so dear?

And now you see me here all dressed in white

I have not hope in hell but thee, I see.

To you I lift up mine eyes full bright

And tell the world the truth that set me free.

Oh please dear one, make me thy star of one

And purge the night of all grim hopelessness.

'Tis all to me that when the battle's done

You know I stood, tireless, for blessedness.

Know I strike my standard plea toward thee:

Wilt thou this, my verse, accept it freely?

Barbara Butler McCoy

[Photo: "Dawn," Barbara Butler McCoy, 2009]