Connections: June 27.17

The library was a bike ride away

back in the day

bumping up

oof

and down

ow

the curbs

back in the day

my kingdom for a basket!

handlebars and books

precarious one-girl circus

back in the day

a tiny place, that library

in a big summer

and the books whispered

take me for a ride on your bike

to that cushy old blanketed couch

in  your cool damp basement

and don’t forget

what this was like

back in the day.

 

 

 

 

Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

And thanks also to the Poquoson Library, Virginia, and all libraries!

Connections

Connections: May 22.17

Many the bedtime this has seen

and one day might see again

but who knows how the tucking-in

will be technified by then?

Connections

Connections: May 21.17

What’s in a back yard?

A little grass, a little sun

a little bit of garden

a little bit of fun

a haven for the rabbits

where dandelions bloom

the fresh-aired open-concept

original family room

where games and make-believe

work and play combine

but victim of aesthetics:

I miss the old clothesline.

Connections

Connections: May 9.17

My grandma had a tiny house

if you take a yardstick measure

but it was huge in other ways:

curiosity and treasure.

The coolest stuff was hid away

but I knew where to find it

and she would let me hold it

and tell the tale behind it.

Now I’m packing up my house

which means, I’m sure you know,

packing up my family

striving to let go.

Memories sneak in everywhere

in closet and in drawer

one thing leads to another

as I’m sorting on the floor.

You will understand, I’m sure,

I hyperventilate

when I note the Christmas card box:

45 for $1.98!

And thus do different eras

re-tell themselves to me

as I wrap the family flotsam

as if crown jewelry.

Connections

Connections: April 29.17

I have been in an alternate universe

a place I have been before

where perpetual motion is rampant

and parents a mere twoscore.

There’s soccer and softball and homework

lives lived digitally

two kids, two cats, two dogs,

and Grandma (that would be me).

Mom in a sling and Dad far away

a convergence of planning and chance

with non-stop pre-teen rhythm

and flying by the seat of our pants.

I lived in a place such as this

in a dim and distant past

when I had an abundance of pep

and my hormones hadn’t lapsed

but now my creaky bones

move far less supplely

and I don’t know when I’ll recover

from the onslaught of energy.

Connections

Connections: April 2.17

If you say “the funny papers,”

do people look askance

as though you’re some green alien

who landed here by chance?

Or do you say “the comics”

and fewer people stare?

Have you ironed them on waxed paper,

an art form all too rare?

Did you hear “The Comic Weekly Man”

on Sunday radio

and now tell certain skeptics

of that Stone Age long-ago?

Then you will share my sigh

that I can’t do it any more:

read the Sunday funnies

while lying on the floor.

Connections

Connections: March 10.17

The pursuit of excellence

is always laudatory

until we tumble over

 in wilted perspiratory.

It would be my undoing

but is nothing for him

he’ll eat a rhinoceros

and dash off with new vim.

Thanks to photographer Kelley Wilson Mesterharm.

Connections