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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Experience · #2196108
Heeding Mom's advice.
Do not go gentle into that good night;
she did not phrase it that way to be exact.
More to the point, Mom commanded, “Stay out
of Foothill Woods!”  And we knew Mother meant it. 
Danger made camp there—all us kids knew that.
Rumors persisted about, The Green Man;  just
the thought stirred fear into every heart.
We had heard he was some white-
haired wizened slim who would
wander the woods—the old
man from the mountain


So we would sit and talk
about, The Green Man, think
about how the lightning struck,
his hair now white, we’d run amok;
but then we’d play out, in the fields
not sure if that green man would
someday carry us away.     

Yet it was pretty safe, we thought for us
adults in adolescent skin, to arm ourselves
among the hills, and catch the summer sun
all right, to gather tadpoles from a stream
and act as if the world was ours to
conquer and subdue.  Then I’d
assert this to Mom at night:
“I’ve been everywhere.”

Mom’s face a pillar of, Oh brother, reminded
me that taking chances sometimes circle
back on you, and you may find yourself
enclosed, not knowing what to think.
And now I feel a confidence in her,
something I could not show back
then.  Her wisdom did present
itself in subtle yet assertive
ways; she taught me
not to gamble
.


36 Lines 
Writer’s Cramp Co-Winner
7-19-19

Requirements:

—the old man from the mountain…….(Merle Haggard)
—out, in the fields………………………(Gary Moore)
—I’ve been everywhere………….……(Johnny Cash)
—she taught me not to gamble………(Johnny Sea)
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