cronechronicler

Exploring the poetry of everyday life

Dancing Lessons

Many days I feel there is no poetry in the world to explore. The pink stripes in the sky will reappear with Winter. What will they say to me? The patio has gone through its Autumn transformation. The iron furniture has been stored and the pool is empty. Summer was not the same with endless days when the thermometer hit 90. I don’t mind that it is over. Spring is a distant memory.

Four years ago I wrote of my magical experience watching acres of tulip bulbs being plowed under after they bloomed in the Spring. The soft brown fallow fields shared with me their wisdom. Though the fields were bare they were rich with everything necessary to nurture tulips next season. I felt the pull of being fallow. I wanted to empty my life of all that had busied it and let what was already within me bear fruit. I found freedom and an unexpected gift. I could write poetry.

After moving to be near my family, the new roots I put down have taken firm hold. Life at the Greenbriar is good. I believed I was settled-in once and for all. Now the world has changed in ways I have no words to describe. I’ve stepped back to take a longer view. My mind is awakening to old histories and possibilities of new hope for our future. Once more being fallow will allow me room to grow.

A small miracle happened Sunday while we celebrated World Wide Communion at church. The last hymn of the service was “We Are Walking in the Light of God”, an African Freedom Song. The last verse of the hymn reads “We are dancing in the light of God”. As we sang people began to move about. A friend pulled me from my pew. She and I began to dance in the aisle, making it up as we went along. Other people gave us space. I think they were amazed that two seasoned women were so uninhibited. When the music stopped she and I couldn’t stop laughing. I still feel the glow. The world has surprises I never imagined happening when I am alive to the moment. My new way of being fallow dances to a different beat.

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Refurbishment

To look at my present as possible past
Daunting endeavor, confusing at best
Then Aha! moment furnished direction
Live in the now! where else?

Standing in line at a ballyhooed art show
On my feet two hours at least
Energized by engagement I realized
My cane and I can go miles before rest

A present rich with much possibility
Brand new exploration if I open my eyes
Reach for new challenges from creative grab bag
Open doors not extensions of past

With curiosity checked-out travel offerings
Searching for something I had missed before
Discovered adventures focused on interests
Not only the aging seek learning in classrooms

And so next September I head for New Hampshire
To learn and to listen to sizzling Cool Jazz
Taking first step toward reimagination
Living into new perspectives on life

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Challenging Time

When first I began posting crone chronicles
Enriched by Word Press 101 prompts
I sat at my computer catching ready-made stories
Tumbling from a lifetime of rich memories
Lovely to go back and re-member the past

Seems as if now life around me is changing
Much new is good, much more terrifying
Past seems an irrelevant line drawn in the sand
The who I was then needs refurbishment
What I live and write now creates  past for my future

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Requiem

Exploring the poetry of everyday life
More easily said than done these days
Time to reset and center myself
Face facts that changes warping the world
Seem to be settling in for a long haul

Poetry is not dead Heaven forbid
This lifeblood of humans flows deep in our veins
Hidden beneath horrors spewed out in the news
Goodness and glory in shapes still unseen
Kindness and God’s grace yet will prevail

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Haiku: Passing Time

Days move slower now
Crawling at a turtle pace
Time to smell a rose

Weeks go charging by
Rapid rabbits hop along
Where did my time go?

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Adjustments

My blog announces I’ll explore
The poetry of every day
Newly I have found alas
My everyday has changed

First I blamed my muse
Lazy creature distant
Unavailable to inspire
Or to awaken me

The tree outside my window
And the view
Clouds in dawning sky
Tell me no tales

Family life is bubbling
A stew of new developments
Demands attention
And my energy

Changes unpoetical I think
Call for language spoken best in prose
Stories full of life and real
Ah, my muse awaits me just off stage

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Passages

Summertime six years ago
I settled in this space
Unpacked and put my memories
On walls and table tops
In places I found evidence
Of occupant who came before
Tiny holes in closet door
Suggest a place to hang his ties
Apartment life is transitory
I put roots down none the less
Created my new home.

These past six years began a tale
Chapters of unexpected change
So many things I used to do
No longer are within my reach
My apartment is the same
It is I who have a different view
I will re-member cherished gifts
Grieve and lay them to the side
Look out the window at the tree
Watch pink clouds at early dawn
Embrace anew life’s mystery.

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Engaging New World Yet Again

Sixty-four years ago I first commenced
Marched to regal music Pomp and Circumstance
Received high school diploma, adjusted my tassel
And was graduated. The beginning.

Four more years later another time
Marched outdoors on campus
Without Pomp and Circumstance
Received college diploma.

Life became serious.
Brought me independence and marriage
Motherhood of three babies. No diplomas or music
Recognition or sleep.

Years in the middle
Marched to my own drum beat
Weathered whatever my life set before me
Found goodness in living.

Long rich years have passed
I sense a commencement.
My body is slowing
While fine new gifts flourish.

If there is marching I’ll get out my cane
Wear purple and celebrate all that I’ve learned
Applauding the music of birds and the rain.
I don’t need a diploma.

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Metamorphosis

I’m back after a good week in Mexico with my sister and brother-in-law, who are delightful traveling companions. The resort was all I thought, another home for me. And I realize it is time to say goodbye. Being there occasioned an existential experience which was a surprise. I’m truly one of the oldest generation. I’m OK with that. When my energy is restored I want to write about it. For now I am grateful to be home, period.

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Haiku: Daylight Moon

Lady slipper moon
Lingers in pale deep blue dawn
Daylight saving time

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