Employ the Wind (in April for John)

When I sing of you I will employ the wind

and be schooled by wind in how the world sounds

then shout stout-stemmed your praises.
The silent roar of the vast

stretch of indigo sky gathers March gales,
zigzags twisted leaves here and there
to trumpet your eager energy harnessing
turbine gusts for family and friends,

shunning idleness headlong into spring
when winds shake the meadows awake,
air scented with bergamot from tawny trees.
You, too, stir your aromatic medicine

sweet scented. I breathe you in and sketch
myself larger than before. We cluster together,
whisper winds gentle above our heads, thorns
blunted, sadness a shallow thing as elder roots grow down.

Summer steals the sun and tells the story
of the grasses, strong waves of wind rush,
thrust and pummel stalks that sway in response,
force dampened not cursed, is this not your way?

And in the fall when flowers will not
wait for snow's howl, wind swoops and
swivels, wakes death to claim its rightful
place, blows change lashed to life, unafraid.

You wander and wend, my love, sail near
the four winds, use breath for resonant sounding.

One Wednesday, a long time ago, the guest contributor over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads was De Jackson of Whimsy Gizmo who had us choose from a list of intriguing words and phrases in a botanical book to construct our poem. It took me until now to finish it. April is my Honey's birthday month. Posted for Real Toads Open Link Monday.

Long Slow Distance

Sundays are all about long
slow distance,
recommends runs by the sea for one,
longest of the week, limb loosening
easy runs for an hour or two
depending on the next race date.

Reading brings long slow
distance as well, immersion
in other lives, other worlds
provides distance from mine,
lets me see it from new
perspectives, mind loosening
easy change, fresh view.

Afternoon delights feeds
long slow distance
in yet another way, travels
of a different kind along
the planes of familiar skin,
far away from days cares toward
soul loosening easy meeting.


Posted for Kenia over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads who asked us to write about Sundays in our lives. Sundays are favorites for so many reasons...

Dear Mary Fran

Dear Mary Fran,

What a brave girl you are. You see injustice and jump in to right the wrongs. You let bullies know that they won't get away with picking on younger or weaker kids. You've gone to school on how to fight by watching the bigger boys carefully and learning their moves. You've kept yourself from getting hurt in your fights that way. Good for you. Your brothers and your girl friends are a little safer because of you. I admire you, your spunk, your loyalty to those you love, your belief that if something needs to be done then you'll do it. I can tell you that you're setting the foundation for our future.

I'm sorry about the change in messages that happened when you were 10 and moved to Malden Highlands to live with two aunts. All that stuff about being a good girl and a  proper young lady got you mixed up, mad and sad for quite awhile. I know you had lots more freedom in the Projects, that you got to do things more your way there. Mom was depressed and unable to be very present in those years and Dad was more focused on our brothers. It gave you the chance to call your own shots. You watched those around you and learned how to take care of yourself. And others. You came and went as you pleased without much adult interference. I know how much you liked that. You did a good job growing yourself up. 

Here's what I know now, that's it's also okay to lean on others, to even expect them to take care of you sometimes. Adults are supposed to do that for their kids. You ended up thinking you could do a better job in the taking care department than anyone else. But here's the thing, you were only 5 or 6 or 7 or 8 or 9 and too young to have that burden on your small shoulders. Remember the feeling you had every once in awhile when you didn't know what to do? Or that time when Uncle Joe came to the house after you had had an argument with Mom and he wanted to hug you?  You couldn't allow that although you wanted to be comforted, and finally, since your back was to him, you leaned your head back on his chest. Remember how good that felt? It's like that to share your burdens with someone who loves you. 

I know Mom and Dad love you but they're a little overwhelmed by their circumstances and they think you're doing just fine. Only you can tell or show them differently. You'll get better at that when you get older but I want you to know that I see it was hard for you and you had your reputation to uphold. You took on a lot. It will become your strength of character later and allow you great and tenacious compassion for the underdog. You'll build a career around those strengths. You'll also have a lot to learn. I know you don't feel smart because you don't do as well in school as our brothers, but, girl, you are smart! You'll come to believe that later in life.

You're going to have an amazing life- you'll meet and marry the most loving man and the best friend imaginable who'll love you totally. You'll have a daughter (yes, just one, although you want more now) who you'll love like crazy and be great friends with when you're both adults. You'll have two grandkids that you'll fall utterly in love with and who will challenge and delight you. You'll have a career in nursing (just like you want now) that you'll cherish, get your master's degree (yes, you!) so you can learn what you need to know about how to care for those with mental illness (don't worry, you'll feel right at home). You'll have four great girl friends who'll remain friends all through the years and enrich your life immensely (just like yours do now). You'll travel (just like you want) and get to know people all over the world, you'll get back into running  and love it (just like you do now) and you'll get back to loving your body (like you do now) after some goofy years of not liking it. See? You're already my teacher in so much. I'll have to remember a lot what you already know.

All that you've done so far will be a BIG part of allowing our abundant life to happen (with a lot of help from friends along the way). So relax a little, be a kid, have fun. You're a terrific girl. I like you lots and love you dearly. I appreciate all you've done to try to care for yourself. I'm coming. I'll help.

Love always,

Mary

A letter to my young self after sifting through photos recently for an ancestors book I put together and stirring up some very old memories. Posted for Fireblossom in Postmark: Poetry over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads who asked us, among other things, to write an old fashioned letter.

OGM Day

How to decorate for this feast day
celebrating Ordinary Good Men?
Ask John, he's one. Not that he looked
for a holiday. That's the point isn't it?

He just goes and acts as an ordinary good man-
stays loyal to friends, stays in love with his family, works hard
at work he loves, does all he needs to be good at his work,
fixes broken things around the house, likes to cook, buys cool presents

for his main squeeze when he travels, tells her she's beautiful, tells her she's sexy.
Keeps his interests wider than sports, TV and drinking, lots wider.
Reads, initiates interesting conversations, listens closely, the kind of close that lets
his partner get clearer about what she's thinking. That alone

is worth a full fledged holiday with banners and parades and a day off to celebrate.
But there's more- he likes a good time, likes to play and laugh,
has dreams for the future. And when I think I've reached the end
of all that makes up an ordinary good man he surprises me

and tells me that he likes how my eyes look in my new glasses, how
my whole face looks open and pretty. Then brings me out to the balcony
and gives me the full moon with two planets close by, so bright and lovely.
Bring out the balloons, and streamers and posters

for all to cheer these treasures in our midst who do what they do
with no holiday until now. Sing songs, raise a toast, shout it out-
Here's to Ordinary Good Men! Hip, hip, hooray!


For Izy's Out of Standard over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads who asked us to invent a new holiday. As for my personal hero for whom the holiday is invented- that's easy, my Honey of 40 years, John. He's leading the parade!

The Longest Hours of the Day

The longest hours of the day

move like stone, a shared collection

of semi-ruined possibilities

that leave only doubt,

the future more contained, its roof lowered

in the longest hours of the day,

crestfallen cardboard, fragile as dust

with little chance for change save encrypted hope.

What is that refusal deep within

that lures us think 'what if?', 'maybe'

in the longest hours of the day

even as our hearts break open?

Perhaps we humans, illegal aliens on earth,

crave an ever-present sliver of hope

and fail to grasp the despair glimpsed
in the longest hours of the day.


For Open Link Monday but inspired a while ago by a list of words offered by Kenia Cris over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads.

A Runner's 55

Finished the Florida half marathon in February
7th out of 47 women in my age group (65-69).
Felt good but I set a new goal: keep running
until 70 when I'm the youngest in the age group
and come in first. This woman of a certain age
likes to have something to aim for.


For G-Man's Friday 55. True story.

On the Jacksonville beach:

At the finish line:

Times They Were A Changing

It started suddenly at fifteen,
him stretched out on the rug
his ear next to the Hi- Fi speaker
listening to a different kind of music,
it sounded just this side of dangerous- Fever,
Don't, I Beg You, Great Balls of Fire, Hand Jive-
Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry.

1958, I was twelve, on my own verge, stepped over brother's body,
his eyes closed, transported to places I'd not yet gone
but I studied him like an instruction manual
and took in the music's messages. Things were changing
in one house on Rockland Ave. with oldest son, for sure,
middle daughter alerted who whispered cautionary tales to youngest brother,
one young man shifted, one girl altered, acculturated to the larger social upset.


Posted for Kerry at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads who asked us to write about a flashback moment. This strong memory from 1958 presaged my awakening in the turbulence of the 60's.

Brother

He always wore his Boston baseball cap,
loved the game from young,
liked going with friends to watch players lap
the bases as if they were a necklace strung

together, it was the thrill of it all, anthem sung,
hot dogs eaten slathered in mustard and relish,
guys gathered, burdens rested, every moment embellished.



In the last photo of my brother four days before he died two weeks ago, he was with his friends. He was smiling in his baseball cap after going to a game with them. Looking happy. He was on his way to met a friend for coffee when he died. Just living his life. The suddenness is hard on those who loved him but it seems a good way to go. I'm glad for him. Offered for the G-Man's Friday 55 (counting the title).