Saturday, August 1, 2009

Jerry Bowles was my pal and classmate during our days growing up in Temple. His mom was Lulu Maxwell Bowles. She raised six good kids. Jerry has written other poetry. I think the “Ode to Mom” is one of his best. Thanks Jerry! --Harold Powell.

I was out in the yard this afternoon watering my flowers and this poem came to mind. I thought you might enjoy reading it. I wrote it in 1992.
--Jerry, July 22, 2009 Eclectic, Alabama on Lake Martin.

One of my most fond memories of growing up was listening to Mama sing. Mama always had a yard full of flowers. She seemed to be happiest when she was watering her plants and singing. It wasn’t really singing because there were no words. Maybe humming, but more. The notes came clear and beautiful as if from some unknown musical instrument.

Many times I would go outside to find Mama quiet and working in the flower beds. She would be down on her hands and knees talking, digging, and throwing weeds every which way. I never bothered her or asked her who she was talking to. After a good digging, she would water the flowers and make her joyful melody.

After I grew up, left home, and started a family of my own, the problems of living became a reality.Then I understood what Mama was doing. She was down on her knees in the dirt, talking to God and casting her burdens aside.

I’m older now and the years have passed me by. I’ve had many burdens along the way, but God never promised that life would be easy. I know that God’s and Mama’s love are always there to see me through. Sometimes I get down on my knees in my flower beds. I dig in the dirt, throw out weeds in my life, and talk things out because I know that’s what Mama would do.