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Sometimes, I just need to go for a bicycle ride, on my Schwinn Cruiser, around the Loop Road, Rainclouds or Sunshine. And sometimes, when Lifes circumstances prevents me, I do it anyway, with Windy thoughts peddling circles in my mind. I am D.M. Beebe . . . Born July 07, 1967 in Seattle, Wa. Sprouted one hour away, due North East, in the fertile Tualco Valley. I didnt really ever go too far away from the Valley, as I didn’t need to. As Life in Tualco Valley, seems to have always intrigued me. As I pay attention to the Valley, I do notice the slight changes every day. Throughout the 4 Seasons, within the Valleys full Spectrum, Rainbow array. When I watch, and when I pay attention, I develop many reasons. To have many thoughts about Life, throughout my Lifes Seasons. So I think about Life, and about Nature, and Plants and Animals, and Humans. And how it unfolds, within my mind, and my thoughts, and my insights. And so I write Story Poems of my Lifes experiences, and of my observations. And so I go forth, to reveal my conclusions, of my slightly insane perceptions. Thank You for reading my Poems . . . D.M. Beebe

Friday, December 5, 2014

The old Ben Howard Road Winter's poem -

Back in the old Ben Howard Road neighborhood,
Time were different then, times were always good,
We all trusted, and we knew, who all are neighbors were,
We all as neighbors, were there for each other, to have that cup of sugar,


Some years, Winter's snow fell, and blanketed the Valley,
Out of the barns and sheds, came out the skates and sleds, and it was a fun time Wonderland rally,
Definitely days of old, definitely days of which I am Winter's time fond,
When we all skated and sledded together, on the old Haskel's Slough frozen pond,


Hot chocolate in a mug with cinnamon toast of course, in the humble old kitchen abode,
The moms always had ready for all of us kids, in any house along the old Ben Howard Road,
We all contributed, and we helped each other, as we all did get along,
Those days on the old Ben Howard Road, growing up together, where we all did certainly belong,


Maybe hike up to the cabin, way up beyond Stephen's Waterfall up on the hill,
Or walk the shortcut Trestle track to town, get ready to jump if you hear the BNSF whistle,
Dad worked for BNSF for 30 years, sometimes Dan and I went with him Ballard to Wenatchee,
Homeward bound through the Stevens Pass Tunnel, the Monroe jump off, then walk the Trestle track home did we,


Across the Skykomish River, it was a mile or so long Trestle track walk,
But when we got to the old Ben Howard Road, we would jump down, and not really then have much to talk,
Because we were 1/2 mile from home then, walking along the white line,
Frosty, frozen, white and icy, soon that hot chocolate and cinnamon toast will be yours, and will be mine !


You might think I have made things up, or you might think I have indulged,
But every account is true, making me reminisce and want to old times further divulge,
The old Ben Howard Road, with all of its grand, endearing, and fond memories,
What a great way to grow up, forever in my mind always, to write about this one and more future poem stories.


D. Matthew Beebe

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