MERRY CHRISTMAS to you! dear family and friends, yes, to even those who cast a vote for The ONE,
The BuksZoo's right here, still in Norlina, clinging tightly to God and our Guns…
Did I just hear you chuckle?… or emit a slight groan… outright laughter? because you know how I get,
This particular election provided ten-years-worth of fodder, for my new Conservative In Exile prickly wit.
A short pause here to say, that I've pondered and prayed, on just how to write two-years of rewind,
Because huge life events came to pass in this time, that, as a rule, are not intended for rhyme.
Me and most rules –well, we just don't play very well —add Christmas, and no-holds-barred when I write,
And like a bubbling stream over slippery rock, we've had a blessed slide around the mountain of life.
So it all goes on paper - uncut and out loud –the funny -- the sad -- the insane…
You're a witness to this – if it turns out all wrong –my politically-incorrect-self is to blame.
But enough of that now, Tis' the Season it is, I hope this finds you all living your dreams,
With cash under your mattress, an off-shore account, and strong libations to soften the screams.
If O's New Deal turns a corner, we'll catch horses to ride, (no gas needed) except for the hay,
Twenty acres to build on and plenty to plant, so we'll all eat and you're welcome to stay.
The Money Pit here has grown into a home, thanks to Steve working both day and night,
Wood fencing erected, landscaping perfected, power washing and painting done right.
Still married? Well, yes - no thanks to that fence - plus I learned a few things I'll pass on…
Master Chief's rules for the go-get-that-girl: hold-it! this-way-not-that! are just wrong.
I can make that damn tractor go forward, and I found "R", which must stand for Reverse,
And that bucket-knob-thingy should come with instructions, and oh.. horses don't care if you curse.
I think "level" is all in perspective, and favorite-country-song means "break time and dance",
I'm repeatedly fired, but then I write the checks –so I smile and respond with " fat chance".
There's a song entitled, "Live Like You're Dying…", well, I've dubbed it Steve's anthem of past,
Because for thirty-two years he pushed every limit, and now those SEAL days are over at last.
And just as I exhaled a very long breath, his devilish grin lit up that ol' blaze of blue eyes,
Now it's timber-frame building, snowboards and slopes, go West for big mountains and sky.
Someday we'll be planted, on the side of a hill, in a log house built by Steve's own two hands,
But that may take us a while, because the older we get, the less our bones oblige all of our plans.
As for our kids, well… they're not kids anymore, while we were busy they snuck out and grew up,
With lives of their own, clear cut opinions and sovereign thoughts on this Ranch and the muck.
They're scattered about, from California to Virginia, except for Aaron, quite content in his Cave,
So we pray now for grand-babes –round two of the Zoo–'cause the dogs, they just sit and behave!
Stephen and Shawna are still in Charlottesville Land, where they work far more hours than play,
Besides night jobs they own a small business with partners, and hone skills to flip property by day.
They worked in a few trips -this year and last - because they're young and don't need any rest,
Ireland and Jamaica, Austria last March and in August… the Burning Man Fest.
Somewhere around Spring they adopted Kavella, our grand-puppy, a pawed bundle of cute,
Then moved Aaron in for a four-month long stay, slightly surprised by a wave of "teen-Tude".
A mile away from UVA, these two shared their time, their skills, even dates…
Cajoled and advised, begged and revised, until little brother learned the rules of "room-mates".
It's abundantly clear they went above and beyond, and we know this with full, grateful hearts,
When babes come along, these two -without doubt- mastered this: the abundant love part.
Sheri-baby is twenty-five this year, a quarter-century of sharp brains, great looks and keen sense,
A Political Science graduate who loathes the BS, yep… that college fund was money well spent.
I mean that with cheer, because the first four-year stuff, is just grounding for life, as we know,
And with Sheri that knowledge is lived, earned and shared, but I did save the diploma for show.
She promptly packed up, loaded the car, hugged us tight and drove West with a friend,
Landed in Redding, California that is, where she works to earn more than she spends.
The Bethel school's there, she attends everyday, teaches dance, heals the sick, studies faith,
Works wonders with Lattes', writes when there's time, and plans a mission trip to Croatia of late.
With stubborn from Steve, stir a spoon of me in, this Bukowski is dear ways and strong will,
Well, of course I sound partial, but then I birthed the girl, so I know she's got Supernatural skills.
Nous sommes si fiers de cette fille et la vie qu'elle habite, encore nous disons, bien fait !
If you're moral and handsome, work hard for your wealth - call her Dad and he'll screen you for dates.
Now, for our Aaron, he's nearly eighteen, a grown kid who stands near' six-foot-four,
Loves all Polish Soccer and Gaming 'til dawn, and still grins when he ducks through a door.
He's endured quite the year of perilous health, in certain circles he's the object of fame,
Yep, one in four-hundred, throughout the whole world, or so records from Duke proclaim.
We were caught unaware, because Duke doctors don't talk, but we found some at UVA who do…
They're smart and they're kind, know their stuff and take time, and respond to my emails.. it's true!
Now we could wring hands and be sad all day long, but Aaron says it's a waste of good time,
There's 'naught to be done and he'd rather have fun, no sense waiting around to be fine.
In the midst of all chaos, he worked his first job, finished high-school over summer this year,
Even God is in awe of this teenage-old-soul, who proves love overcomes any fear.
In '09 we look forward to long snowboard rides, great soccer shots and a college course try,
He reminds us by being, that moments are gifts, and each life has its high and low tides.
As for me, I'm still living out loud and on paper, mostly fiction, but I have to opine,
With political rants and conservative raves and I'm having one hell of a time.
I find solace in sunsets and oil on canvas and when I'm lucky, my words are just right,
I'm an author by day, a Mom all the time, and did I mention Steve's home day and night?
Just a joke from the now famous go-get-that-gal, so I'll finish this here and be done…
Peace. Out.
My poem this year is dedicated to my Dad, who passed on July 7, 2007 – He was always lucky like that…
And to my beautiful, brave Mom who for 61 years remained my Dad's very own angel on earth.
This sparkling night mid-December, one eve past the fullest moon,
Dad whispers to me from his heaven –slipped away, just in the next room.
If I listen with my heart I hear music, notes of sweet tenor sax fill the sky,
On the wings of an angel, past sparkling stars, Dad tips his cap and flies by.
Merry Christmas
May your New Year delight you daily.
Liberties cannot be bought with bailouts – and freedom isn't free
With love, prayers and appreciation for our Troops around the world,
The Bukowski Zoo
My Perfect Sunset & Steve's Perfect Ditch
