Wonders of wonders
A dear fairy godmother
Shared secret with me
With strategic clicks
Classic Editor returned
All’s well with my blog
Wonders of wonders
A dear fairy godmother
Shared secret with me
With strategic clicks
Classic Editor returned
All’s well with my blog
From the beginning
It was a strange journey
I thought I would do well
I like staying home
My many fixed routines
Soon seemed to crumble
I needed companionship
The warm blooded kind
I talked to my plants
Texted friends and family
Read books, watched old movies
Took long walks outside
I realized present time
Took all of my energy
Learning to Zoom
Became a mixed blessing
Past familiar habits
No longer sustained me
It was exhausting
Getting through the day
Future time distant
Offered no hint of comfort
May as well live
In this new present I’m in
Mornings are difficult
A thick fog encircles me
Passing by lunchtime
Leaving me empty
And then this morning
I welcomed a visitor
My muse on my shoulder
Telling me to write
The smaller of the two bedrooms in my apartment became my writing room when I moved here eight years ago. This is where my blog began with the help of a willing grandson. The large window is a portal to my imagination. I love the tall oak tree among whose spreading branches I watch squirrels and birds build nests and care for their young. The moon and changing colors of the sky shape the budding poet inside me. Within my room are things that remind me of my journey.
Green plants live near my window to catch the light. All are off-spring shoots from friends and family. Tending them nourishes the outdoor gardener in me. On the window ledge are things that shine on sunny days – a royal blue glass coffee mug, souvenir from a Colorado trip; a bluish purple paperweight that was my son’s; an old brass cowbell with lots of family history.
The walls have a geographical bent – picture of a Texas cowboy riding on a lonesome road, wedding present to my Dad a Texan, too. A wooden wall clock in the shape of Ohio, gift to me from my congregation in a small Ohio town. Three framed certificates mark my progress to become their minister.
Everything else is furniture that has traveled with me for a while. The student desk and chair were used by my three sons. The much-scarred cherry end table, a gift from my mother in the 60’s, has been in every home I’ve known. The futon came with me from Chicago when I moved back to Cleveland to be with my family here. My glass computer table and new laptop are beside a table where my printer sits. They are the newest things except for what I write, which await my muse.
With many thanks to Pleasant Street who gave me the idea to write this piece.
Muse has been drowsing
Beneath life’s daily matters
Awakening now
Cleansing rain falling
Breezes create refreshment
Words begin to stir
Family heart work
Enters time of fruition
Now space for my soul
I chose this theme five years ago
Inky blue sky and far away planets
Daring new steps my inauguration
Quote on “About” gave me fair warning
Step into a river and do not expect
The same current twice
My river bore me along for a while
Waves of bright memories transformed into words
Poetry sprang singing from deep hidden well
Then drought drained inspiration
I’m back where I started but oddly ahead
Brand New Day once again.
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
Imagine dawn sky dressed in pink-ribboned clouds
Trees green-leaved in summer
Changing colors for autumn
Sobered by stillness of bare-branched winter
Chilling cold and deep silence.
Imagine a mother of sons and grandchildren
Heart filled with wonder, love, joy
And trepidation
World is near changing
Beyond recognition.
Imagine aging a worthy challenge
Rich adventures and exploring
Forge wisdom a gift
Hard-won and enduring
Unknown roads lie ahead
But for today the sun is shining
Golden hours to seize and embrace.
Shadows, too, can be lovely
I’ll plumb them tomorrow.
Translating my life into poems.