Read an Excerpt
THE WONDER OF IT ALL
By Earl Fee
Trafford Publishing
Copyright © 2012 Earl Fee
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4669-4532-6
Chapter One
LIVE
The Trilliums
It's early May and heaven on earth
It seems, as I tread the forest path
So still and fresh. My heart is filled with mirth
For in spring how could one have wrath?
Beside me a stream shines and whispers;
While on the forest floor an ocean
Of white trilliums perform their vespers
With velvet throats raised in devotion,
To sing silent amens one and all
To their deceased neighbours the brown leaves;
Above, silver columns form nature's cathedral
With a new roof of green and lacy weaves.
To make my day complete a cardinal
In suit of blazing red comes to greet
?Farewell! Come again!? I know I shall,
As refreshed I emerge to the hot street.
But will the trilliums still be there?
In life there are too many farewells I swear.
Drifting Clouds
White drifting clouds slowly traverse the sky,
Blessed by the golden sun smiling on high,
Likewise our sorrows will take flight and fly
To another world to disappear and die.
Fleeting Dreams
Your dreams are in the sky
Like bright clouds drifting by;
Latch onto one—catch a ride—
Time's a wasting—no time to bide.
Buried Dreams
Many a golden dream sweated on for years
Languishes—abandoned—
In the dark archives of the mind.
Never to see glorious light of day.
The cobwebs of time overcomes all;
Will you dream be so ?
Or will it see the enlightening dawn of day?
Second Chances
They asked what is the best time of the day?
I did not have to think:
"The dawn of a new day:
Born again—
In the rays of the new born sun—
Bringing promise of a fresh start;
Adventure, intrigue and love.
It's all in the eager air.
Born again—
To chase our dreams;
To start a new dream;
To make amends for yesterdays;
To forget past trials;
And to love again."
Mount Pleasant Cemetery
Those rushing happily by will suffer similar fates
As the near two-hundred-thousand within these iron gates.
For one hundred and twenty years they came one by one;
Oft'times with sweat and pick and shovel their graves were done.
Oh—its tranquil beauty and gardens are beyond compare
For those left behind to reminisce and their sorrow share.
A place for freeing souls—Mount Pleasant Cemetery;
If I must be buried, 'tis there I wish to tarry.
A place for all nationalities for a moment
In infinite time; where a tree can be a monument;
Where sundials, and hundred-year-old pioneer trees abound;
Where markers grandiose, simple, or, odd, do not astound.
On symbolic memorials unending see the lily,
Cross and crown, laurel, clover, Celtic cross and ivy,
Beautiful Greek columns, olive branch, the hand of God,
Pagoda rooftops, and Fu Chu dogs looking so odd.
Here you will find the not so famous like Stephen Oliver,
But many famous: Glenn Gould, Charlie Conacher,
Timothy Eaton, Charles Best and Frederick Banting,
Foster Hewitt, and William Lyon Mackenzie King.
Come walk in hand with me as golden shafts of sunlight dance
On trees of all species and myriad coloured plants;
Now move into the cool shaded aisles where one could get lost
Since a multitude of straight and winding paths are crossed.
Near the gates off Yonge Street lies football star Johnny Copp
By a spreading chestnut tree and traffic that will not stop;
In nineteen-thirty-three this young hero at U of T
Was shot—gunned down by an enemy he did not see.
When the mighty Empress of Ireland slipped Quebec City
God had planned a fateful frigid meeting without pity.
The 'Saly Ann' played "God Be With You Till We Meet Again"
But over one-thousand would never again hear that strain.
In the fog a sinister mate the collier Storsted
Drew too near then collided—littering the river with dead.
Promoted to glory forever says the monument lists
For one-hundred and sixty-seven lost Salvationists.
Approach the historic mausoleum with trepidation;
Outside two copper beech trees are stunning in the sun;
Inside rests Canada's greatest War One pilot hero
Colonel Barker; to fifty enemy planes he brought woe.
The sky was filled with rose petals from six aircraft en route
Over the mausoleum and chapel to pay tribute;
And to honour his skill, courage, Victoria Cross,
Distinguished Service Order, and Military Cross.
See in his cold marble crypt an angel, on stained window,
With wide brown wings, and this stirring inscription below:
"?His love shall beacon you through the night
And lead you upward into radiant day;
Within the shelter of his brooding wings,
Your parting spirit shall find sweet repose."
Flight 621 is forever remembered here where squirrel
And chipmunk scamper; over one-hundred were at peril
When outboard engine of the 'Galaxy' fell at lift- off.
The stone immense bears inscriptions of all lives cut- off.
Families of three, four, and five gone with scarce time to pray,
Like Weinberg, Whittingham, Wong, Benson, and Belanger
On July five nineteen-seventy when in their prime;
Now they lie beside a huge catalpa withered by time.
The proud Lusitania was sent to the dreary deep
In nineteen-fifteen by a German sub that did creep
With sleek grey stealth-silently off the coast of Ireland;
And two-thousand souls were sent to another land,
With corpses resting where fishes darted and sea worms stirred;
Ninety-eight from Toronto were icily interred;
Martha Waites was one of them now in 76 section.
We pray they shall receive His glorious benediction.
There are countless sad and happy memories recalled here;
The monuments stand guard and stand the wear of time each year
And all too often outliving the precious memories;
One wonders are some gone—watching with sadness and unease.
Here in this bird paradise, pain is eased by God's beauty;
Pray let us not forget our departed and our duty
Here where souls are set free, In Mount Pleasant Cimetiere.
If we shall be buried—let it be there—let it be there.
The Danger of Deprecating
the Disadvantaged
Many a time as a young lad in Toronto the Good
I witnessed Uncle Wellwood—
a butcher of cattle in Detroit—
Simulating his wooden-leg jig,
With a skip and a slap-happy hop ...,
Always after too much of the snake-bite poison
On many a joyous family get-together.
A decade or so later, he lost a big toe from
gangrene ...
Then the lower foot ...
And eventually the whole lower leg above the
knee.
Strange that it should happen to him.
Then he could have danced
a most realistic wooden-leg jig,
But no! The fun of it, like his limb were both lost.
Was this payback time?
Six decades later I still often wonder.
Not Yet Lord
God gently beckoned him;
The offer was there.
Too often life is not fair,
But Death is all too grim,
So he said, "Not now Lord."
One must sink or swim;
Those who sink, sink fast;
Those who swim, they last.
Living is more than a whim,
So he said, "Later Lord."
If only there was more time.
He thought of wasted years
And of needless tears
He'd caused in selfish clime,
So he said, "Not yet Lord."
Now he could clearly see
How to make amends
To neglected friends,
Loved ones and family,
So he said, "Not today Lord."
When life is drifting away—
Life seems all too priceless;
All else is senseless
Next to earthly living,
So he said, "Not yet Lord."
Night Storm
The dark heavens were seething with a cacophony of sound and fury, boiling over with anger, revolting against the afternoon peace of the fiery heat. My roof resounded as if a thousand hammers were pounding on a thousand anvils. I sprang from my bed to the window to witness the sky in turmoil. The heavens were venting its infinite energy in billions of tons of rain pounding, hammering the earth; with thousands of blinding lightning bolts fiung down to Earth as if in punishment, but for what crime? Bolt upon silver jagged bolt piercing the blackness. A thousand oceans were roaring. A thousand giant Gods were blowing, lashing, thrashing Mother Nature. Giant white stallions with thunderous hoofs pounding, and roaring lions with enormous tails thrashing, were charging against each other, charging across the heavens back-and-forth, back-and-forth. Some were pulling gigantic chariots which rattled and clattered across the sky. Their mysterious black riders threw lightning bolts as they sped by at the speed of light ...
And then—all sped a million miles away to another world, taking the turmoil with them.. I was left only with the soft patter of gentle rain like falling dewdrops on my shingles and my now serene garden and soft lawn, and the murmur of a storm turning into a whisper, and a distant flickering light ...
I returned to my safe warm bed with an immense impression of the power of the Almighty, and smiling within to have lived this experience, and forever grateful to be a finite part of this infinite universe.
God Has Smiled On You Today
Sometimes you strike a rare golden day:
It's a great-to-be-alive day;
You feel like the lottery came in;
Your spirits soar;
You know this is one of the happiest days of your life;
Some ecstatic joyful hormones have arrived;
No particular reason.
Perhaps the sun is in its glory,
A golden sunset a sunrise,
Or the snow is glistening with a billion stars,
Or a warm spring rain is softly falling,
Or the night has hung out a trillion white lanterns.
But it is not so much the season or the climate,
It's just one of those days.
All is positive,
Could occur any time,
Rare and glorious euphoria.
Then you are a millionaire
In friends, family, health, glory and success.
Something turned you on,
But in your heart you glow.
And it is hard to say
Why God has smiled on you today.
Last Drink With Grandad
The stroke had laid him low—
Now on an ambulance bed,
In the cottage perched high over Eagle Lake,
He must have known his time was drawing near—
And we all knew.
How he loved the apricot brandy—
We shared one together—me standing by his side.
I was his favorite grandson
And he was the greatest, the strongest,
And also the best reciter of Robert Service poems,
But only after a drink or two.
Sixty years ago I used to think:
When I grow up I want to be like Grandad.
Grandma was a dear, loveable person too,
Walking tall, gracing the world with her presence,
And only a kind word about everyone.
And after forty years of hard work
Amid the golden wheat fields
Near Saskatoon Saskatchewan
And sixty years of love,
She knew well his likes and dislikes.
So I shared one last drink with Grandad.
A Special Friend
In this brief lifetime
We are truly blessed
And fortunate beyond compare
If we have a special friend who:
Cultivates the friendship through the years;
Not allowing the weeds to grow;
Alleviates our worst fears;
Is there when needed without urging;
Gives without receiving;
Understands and asks not;
Says what you need to hear;
Forgives and tolerates our weaknesses;
And truly cares.
With such a friend you are rich indeed though poor.
I have found a treasure it's true
For such a one is you,
Dear friend!
A Retirees Prayer of Survival
The night throws on a grey veil over the sun
And finally puts on its cloak of infinite stars.
I pray Lord make it swift,
this black nothingness called sleep.
Time is a wasting, let us fly through it
To the beginning of flickering light
And on to the Dance of Life:
The hustle and bustle of satisfaction
of mind, body and soul.
Unfortunately for most it's satisfaction of body only.
Forgive them.
And if perchance dreams may come—
Let them be useful, loving and intuitive,
Rather than the usual meaningless wanderings
of weird characters and unbelievable actions.
Oh yes Lord! lead us not to the Big Sleep,
Just the usual fitful one.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from THE WONDER OF IT ALL by Earl Fee Copyright © 2012 by Earl Fee. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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