It looks like I’ve now posted 170 original poems on this site in 30 months of retirement. Most are silly, some are funny, a few are emotional and then there’s those of questionable taste. They encompass the categories of retirement, creatures, romance, love, work, food & drink, travel, fashion, and personal tributes to friends or family. I keep them all in binders, still uncertain as to what to do with them. In the end, should they be published or destroyed? Read them all at:
https://blog.johnstonwrites.com/category/poems/

Today I spent in an ocean-side cabana, pondering the words of author Jon Krakauer’s national bestseller Into The Wild. It’s the story of Chris McCandless and his mysterious death in the Alaskan wilds. As I basked in the warm Maui sun, I couldn’t have been further away in miles or weather conditions from the site where his lifeless body was eventually discovered. One of his favorite authors was Jack London who wrote Call of The Wild. Experts believe that this inspired his Alaskan trek. Jack London’s work, however, is strictly fiction based on a single trip to Alaska, while the McCandless story is very real and tragic. As a self-proclaimed homebody myself who has actually claimed to “hate nature,” this probably seems like an odd book for me to be reading. In fact, the only “Wild” I know is Buffalo Wild Wings. I’ve already admitted to stealing the paperback from our hotel suite, and my wife tells me that we also saw the movie. I don’t remember and can’t find it in my detailed diary.

So, on this 80 degree day while snacking on sushi in a resort cabana, I’m reading about an injured man who starves to death in freezing conditions. I did run three miles this morning on the beach path, but other than that I’ve done little but lounge. I also wrote a poem as a tribute to my wife who does not run but walks at a much faster pace than my normal speed. I will jog ahead but loop back to rejoin her along the path, while enjoying the ways she entertains herself along the way. Here’s a poetic picture of her strutting along the path in front of our Marriott beach home this morning.

Hugs

You spread your arms,
And hug the air.
Embracing the world,
With thoughtful care.

It’s a clear signal,
That all is well.
Love is in the air,
Can’t you tell?

Reaching out with,
A smile on your lips.
Touching the sky,
With Your finger tips.

Marching along,
As you did back in school.
An exercise,
In youthful renewal.

The wind in your hair,
A glimmer in your eye.
No real reason,
To question why?

Destiny ahead,
Cares left behind.
I’d like to know,
What’s on your mind?

Ball cap and shades,
Depending on the weather.
Different tunes,
But “so happy together.”

Forward you go,
Singing a song.
Do you mind,
If I sing along?

Stepping in time,
To a purposeful beat.
Watching you move,
A delightful treat.

I lag behind,
Or jog ahead.
Hand-in-hand,
Preferred Instead.

The beat goes on,
You stroll with ease.
On artful legs,
That aim to please.

Then I observe,
Your arms spread wide.
And clutch the breeze,
Feeling warmth inside.

The world gets,
Another big hug.
My heart strings sense,
A loving tug.

Copyright 2019 johnstonwrites.com