Yellow leaves
flit and flutter
on an autumn breeze
like unseasonable butterflies.
*******
"Why are you looking at me?",
his manchild smile chuckles
from across the table.
"Mamas like feeding their babies good food,"
I say, echoing his smile.
"Babies like eating their mama's good food,"
he says, diving back into his dinner.
********
We decorate for Christmas
more slowly these days
Bits and pieces placed over weeks
instead of a week-end
Picking up remnants of Halloween and
Thanksgiving and last Christmas
as we go.
Slower, yes, but the decorations do go up.
They must go up; they have to go up.
To not do so is admitting defeat.
*********
"Don't you miss her?"
people say about my Japangirl.
"Of course I do,"
I answer, but
there's texting, and video chatting
and emails, and global express mail.
And then I think
How did my parents survive
dragging me and my brother around the globe
without texting, and video chatting
and emails, and global express mail?
Another brick gets placed in their pedestals.
**********
Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit.
Tradition says to say it twice
but three's my number.
No one is ever around to hear it
but I say it aloud, anyway.
Not unlike talking to the saints and angels
when I'm looking for something
in the clutter of home.
Happy first day of December, fellow Slicers!
What amazing snapshots into small moments of your life. The last one is my favorite. I don't know why - it just spoke to a deep place inside of me.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Adrienne. Maybe the commonality of muttering to oneself as we hunt for whatever is needed in the moment is universal!
DeleteChris, thanks for glimpses into your daily life. The first one opens with the beauty of nature and then you shared that into delightful exchange between your little manchild and you. Life is full of different episodes. I can relate to talking out loud to the saints because I was trained to ask for intervention over lost objects when a little girl in Catholic school.
ReplyDeleteI had to giggle when you said "little manchild", Carol, because he's 22 and towers over me. You are so right about the episodic nature of our lives, memories like snapshots, not ever truly complete. And here's to that Catholic upbringing we share!
DeleteI find myself often "in the mood for poetry" of late. The spareness of it has great appeal these days. Few words, but concentrated and rich - kind of like baked fruit in a cobbler or pie; the ideas and images emerging with more intense flavor. I think poetry is like life - a constant ebb and flow of many things, some fully formed, some partial, some unseen but felt, things below the surface, but all somehow part of us --- like these lovely lyrical lines of yours. "Unseasonable butterflies" - musical for sure. The manchild smile - I know it well. Have seen it on my own boys' faces. Another brick in the pedestal of your parents - so poignant. Strikes home. The repetition of "go up" such a sign of determination and carrying on - for are not holidays when those we love are nearest, and the festivities ultimately a celebration of life? That last stanza fascinated me. Seemed a magical incantation but as I was unfamiliar with the "rabbit rabbit" chant, I looked it up to learn it is said on waking on the first day of each month (makes sense now, Dec. 1) as a means of good fortune and good luck for the rest of the month ... your linking it to prayers to the saints for lost things in the clutter of home is masterful, Chris. There's a trace of mourning what's been lost these year, maybe in years past, and a sense of being unable to sort the turns of events for ourselves. Such beautiful craftsmanship, my friend - I have read it over several times to savor its richness. Oh - and three was always one of "my" numbers, too.
ReplyDeleteFran, your comments are therapy sessions for me! You unpack themes and emotions and insight that I'm only barely aware of as I write each week. It makes me go back and reread my own words in a new way--I so appreciate your wise commentary! We will have to discuss our connection with three sometime, cup of tea in hand, I think.
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