A credit to the human race,
No matter how it goes,
Before you're sent to outer space
In white protective clothes,
Forget the media event,
Reporters and TV,
And see the change you underwent,
Without a guarantee.
You could have gone the other way,
With street gangs, fists and thugs,
It might have been the easy play
To hide behind the drugs.
But, no, you said, my life is mine,
I want to make them proud!
Your studies, books and grand design-
Success is what you vowed.
The science fair was just a step
To what was yet to come,
And NASA saw a brilliant prep
No longer from a slum.
For six long years you made your name,
The moon and stars your plan,
'Til finally your fate became
The project you began.
So you deserve to contemplate
On virtues you extoll,
Extend the media debate:
You're children's model role.
to choose from,
that’s my style!
Painted windows, like
stained glass, replace mundane views
with novel visions.
Pensive sheep relax
on a high mountain meadow,
their shepherd daydreams.
Wheat is harvested
with machinery designed
to cut splay blankets.
Longhorns are strolling
to join the others, driven
An artist's outlook
is seen in painted glimpses
of rural portraits.
Free from scissors
and indoor vase, wild roses bare
From the height of accomplishment
to the gloom of despondency,
often the virtues of prerogative
are enjoyed inconspicuously.
Direction and purpose are selected,
distracted from a simple observation,
the value of this right, immeasurable,
but elemental in our existence.
We are where we are in life directly
as a result of our prerogative, earning
both joyful credit and tortured blame,
incredulous to our posture.
The hovering bald eagle, wondrous,
and the roaming vagabond, those of
the mobile rich and the blue collar,
all share this same privilege, oblivious.
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana.