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Archive for August, 2021

Park pic

Know that everything is in perfect order whether you understand it or not. (Valery Satterwhite)
THE POND

A deer lay dead in this pond last winter,
bloated, white as the ice-spotted hills.
The carcass froze, demise unknown,
while the frigid water licked its sides
until the body could be hauled to shore.
Now, a late summer breeze
remembers nothing of snow,
and warmed water fills in the emptied space.
My spirit longs to plunge under the surface,
to swim with the schools of tiny fish
under the water lilies,
to sing with the frogs,
and smell the algae and rotting things
until it finds the secret of water,
that accepts whatever space it is given.
Frozen, heated, evaporated,
eventually it becomes a pond again,
that accepts the dead and feeds the living
without question.





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sun
There's a lot of difference between listening and hearing. (G. K. Chesterton)

As I drive, rain splatters on my car windshield. Fresh fat circles followed by long and hard streaks. I remember an old saying from my childhood, Run between the drops. Never a realistic expectation. More a fantasy notion.

I want to dry rain and tears, to change the diagnosis a friend recently heard. Cancer. And not an early stage. I want to run between the drops and take people who need healing with me.

A raincoat is the best tool for now. Live through all that happens. My friend’s laundry is in the spin cycle now. Clean wash soon to be dried. I will do what I can. And wait for the sun to shine again. It always does.

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flashlights

Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.  (Jonathan Swift)

Flashlight

She stirs artificial sweetener into her coffee
as my husband shares one oldie recording after another.
Creedence Clearwater Revival, Jefferson Airplane,
The Supremes. The 1960’s scene.

Folk artists. One-time hits. I listen.
And watch as my friend moves her head
with the drumbeat. She is blind. She won’t look 
for bookshelf dust or carpet lint. We welcome 

few guests during pandemic time. She celebrates
learned pathways through my house and moves 
between our couch and dining room table.
We share places where disability dissolves.

Or so I imagine until she reaches for coffee
and touches another cylindrical object instead.
“What is this?” I answer, “flashlight,” 
as if she knew about the object the way

she understands the feel of our leather couch,
the last Elvis Presley song, or a groaner-pun.
“Oh,” she answers. Yet, I don’t see the un-seeable
 until I return the artificial light to a desk drawer.

She would fathom flash-light 
the way any sighted person grasps a concept like infinity. 
I have a lot to learn about my friend’s life. 
I am grateful she is willing to teach me.


published in For A Better World 2021

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living flower

One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple. (Jack Kerouac)

 I hate to admit it. My thumb isn’t green. Gangrene? More like it. I have destroyed succulents. Never on purpose.  My everyday world is too crowded. I never finish enough tasks to remember plant care.

 Simplicity. My goal on more than one level.

 A super-special person gave me this plant. In time it gave up. Too much water one day and then none for weeks. I placed the pot on the front porch. The leaves remained a sad, dull brown despite sun and rain.

 I declared it dead, but it missed garbage day. Twice. My best excuse is guilt. I felt as if I had ignored the goodness of the giver. Then, one day I saw a dry, weak green appear on one side. Nah! A fresh sprout would be a miracle. I didn’t deserve one. However, the flower was worthy. I let the green fight through.

 Now, bright-pink springs through our old blue railing. Life, one word.

Persistent and beautiful.

 

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