Any Morning in Woodbury
Making the bed before you leave the room,
Putting the breakfast things in the kitchen,
Opening the curtains to the morning light,
Lifting the blinds, straightening couch pillows:
A show of order and purpose, your gift
To the day as you step onto the front porch,
Stretch your back, and lift your face to the sun
As a raccoon and her young amble home,
A deer, noticing your breath, continues
Watching, the eye contact her gift to your
Day, a celebration of solitude
Set to music by jays just now awakening.
You drive off in silence, the windows down,
Alive in the peace your heart has found.
Cutting Back
My neighbor says my overgrown gardens
Are a mess in a good way. This is a true
And happy fact, though he doesn’t quite know
Why. He has never shared his opinion
Seated beside me here in the garden,
Where he might notice birds feasting, bathing,
Lifting themselves up, up, up the laddered
Branches of white pines while filling silence
With song. If he sat still, he might notice
The small mammals disregarding my gaze
As they turn the earth in their search for nuts.
He might even drift into clouds and dream.
I will invite him after I do not
Cut back the bushes–all the home I’ve got.
5 Comments
Drifting Away
ReplyDeleteMaybe they're out there;
I just don't know.
Maybe somewhere in app world,
In the podcast universe,
In far too many places to look,
Connecticut's bird calls have been recorded,
The sounds of Nutmeg State nature,
Mixed with relaxing new age music,
To put this insomniac to sleep.
Maybe I'm just not meant to rest
A few restorative hours in the dark of night.
Maybe my time is another time,
Like on a sunny afternoon on the deck,
When instead of heeding work's call,
Surrounded by lush garden,
Where the chorus of the blue jay,
Cardinal, titmouse, and yellow finch
Emanate from branches high and low,
I finally drift away.
Ed, I love the sonic picture you draw, with the varied kinds of bird calls, and the progression of the story of you discovering that you sleep better during the day in sunlight surrounded by bird song. You make a sunny afternoon on the deck surrounded by lush gardens and song sound so inviting. And I think new age music plus birdsong is definitely out there!
DeleteHonored Place
ReplyDeleteThis tableful of pretty china
Silver Moon dessert plates,
eggshell Nautilus saucers, tea cups
edged with petite flowers of mauve, pink & gold,
an assortment of mismatched flea market finds.
Treasured wedding gifts from long ago,
they graced family tables on holidays & birthdays,
their beauty and charm like the familiar faces
you could count on being there year after year.
Now, separated from their totality, like families
broken and scattered after a matriarch’s death,
here they sit, exquisite relics of an earlier time,
still beguiling, beckoning to be used, admired,
cared for, despite a few chips and crazings;
to be set gently in a place of honor
as their owner once was, to be seen
for who they really are–elegant, old,
cherishable treasures.
–Julie Cook
Julie and Ed, these are beautiful poems. Ed's, as a response to nature, the first work of art, and Julie's, in response to those gathered treasures that honor memory. Home is a work of creative art. Thanks.
DeleteOn my tablet I can't reply to individual comments, so here I'll say thank you to you both.
ReplyDeleteNice how you honor the treasures as Sandy honors the specialness of the garden and the communion i. The togetherness of a morning's experience.