One of people who was a friend and mentor to Dale was poet Bill Meilen.
We recently found one of his books he lovingly assembled in our kitchen drawer,
What a wonderful surprise!
I will share a poem:
March of Hours
Boxed into time by ever-marching hours,
We seek the grace of Muses, that hot spark
The one time from he smiling Moon did come
The cool blue cube of creativity.
Oh, how the marching clock such urge devours
Now at the lastgrain run before the dark
How to unleach the rhythms of the drum:
The song hat comes of deep simplicity.
Bring our the forging hammers, heat the coals!
Tong in the metals gathered by the mind!
Bend them and forge them to the shape you will
Shaping our future on the brain’s anvil
Things that ne’er existed are our goal
Things that will lift the scales from eyes once blind.
Artists alone all suffer in the still
Seeking that fountain where we drink our fill.
Poems by Bill Meilen in the “Old World Suite”