Oddments

In search of story


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April 20.20: Coping

I’m suburban born and bred,

I barely know horse from cow,

but if I climbed into its rafters

could I hide from the here and now?

A writer could find refuge

in this place of certain story,

strong in tattered red,

rustic allegory.

I wouldn’t be much bother

amid the hay and clover;

I’d leave the very minute

this wretchedness is over.

 

It doesn’t sound very brave, does it, dear reader?

I don’t feel very brave.

 

More thanks to photographer S.W.Berg.

 


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April 17.20 Again: Coping

Edna and me (not a recent photo)

Some years ago, I spent Saturday afternoons with my Aunt Edna, who lived in an apartment about half an hour away. I always called ahead for her grocery list so that, on my way to her place, I could do her weekly shopping for her. Then I’d pick up sandwiches for us.

When I would come out of the grocery store, shoving the cart into a driving cold rain, or, better yet, into a faceful of wet snow, and then try to get the bags into the car without dropping my purse into the slush, I must admit I was no saint: I grumbled and groused to myself. What a mess I was, and what a mess everything was. And then in and out for our sandwiches, and then wrestle all of it into her apartment…nope, not a saint.

But, on the side of virtue, I think I got a grip on my lesser self before she opened her door. She’d pour each of us a small glass of white wine, always the perfect complement to my all-time favorite tuna fish sandwich, and we’d settle into some good yacking.

Today we are having a very cold, relentless rain. It is dark and miserable. My wonderful daughter-in-law, hooded and dripping, just deposited multiple bags of groceries at my front door, and laughed a bit as we social distanced.

Am I thinking about the cycle of life? You bet.

 

 

 


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April 15.20: Coping

Yesterday was awful

it started freezing cold

news blizzards swirled around me

I felt beat up and old.

The only thing to do

before I oxidized

was check the windswept pond

for life more civilized.

It seemed I had new neighbors,

two couples, more’s the merry;

I think they’re blue-winged teals —

how very salutary!

 

 

Do you know, dear reader?

Am I becoming duck-savvy?

I grieve to say my buffleheads have not come back.