Oddments

In search of story


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August 18.21: Coping

I’ve planted my person

on many a seat,

but the best was there

on Summer Street.

Grandma’s porch

with swing for two,

where summer breezes

lazied through,

was where I learned

what sages know:

if I want to be quick

I must first be slow.

Back and forth,

I moved unmoving,

Grandma too,

our own kind of grooving.

Words fell away,

we floated as one;

I can still feel her housedress

all cottony spun.

The cricket sang softly,

far ice cream bells jingled

a summon to vespers

with leaf whispers mingled.

So today a swing sighting

is potently rife

with certainties given

to last all my life.

A Coke for the world

was a once wishful sing,

but I’d write new words

and wish it a swing.

 

Yet more thanks to photographer S.W. Berg

for this wonderful portrait of invitation.

 

 


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June 28.20: Coping

In winter

I dream of such greens/

in lazy pools and streams

of shadow,

indolent,

sleepy,

like deep breathing

of quiet ocean/

in yellowed splotches

of summer’s hooray,

warm with memory

of sprinkler jumping,

chigger scratching,

shrilling

ready or not!

from neon popsicle mouths,

like the clover-drunk

sun-crazed bees

in happy ferment/

until,

panting,

we fall into that shade pool

and the green seeps into

our dreams.