Day 30: Leftovers

From everyone......
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Leftovers

I'm writing a poem for the thirtieth morning in a row.
The first morning I sat in bed all cozy comfy
but that woke Gary up. The second morning
I sat in my recliner with my feet raised while the sun

smeared the room with butter. I wrote about that.
The next day I went out on the porch and have been
here ever since. I won't bore you with another sun
description or what the breeze feels like on my bare

shoulders. Instead, I'll write about....well, I don't know.
Sherrie's remaining word is Timeless. It's a beautiful word
like these moments of solitude. Dayle suggested Seasons
and I think she meant the seasons of life. Like Bob's

winter occurring in spring. Anne gave me a mouthful
of words: Sunrise, Sunset, Surviving, Coping, Hoping,
Retirement, Dreams, Baby, Birth, Luck, Weekend,
Tides, Waves, Freedom. They braided themselves

into most of my thirty poems. Like the long braid my mom
saved after my first haircut. Years later I lent it to Anne
and she incorporated it into her own hair on Prom night.
Gina passed along Friends, Peace, and Community.

Those ideas are in just about everything I write.
So, even if I didn't single any one of these words out,
they were with me. Each morning I took them out,
held them in the palm of my mind, burnished them

until they outshone the sun, then tucked them away
in my heart's pocket. They waited patiently for the right
moment to burst free. Today I released them
to cavort like dolphins in the ocean of my words.

Day 29: Comfort

From my friend, Gina......
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Comfort

I carry the clean sheets into the guest room.
They sag a bit in my arms, like my spirits

now that Erin and Kylie are gone. I wrestle
the bottom sheet into position then smooth

the top sheet folding the edge over. I stuff
the pillows into their cases and fluff them

as I put them at the head. Then I spread
the blue and yellow quilt, my sister Nancy made,

over everything, pulling the edges down just so.
After that I get Windex and paper towels.

I spray the mirrored closet doors. Stop. Is that
what I think it is? Oh, yes, my Kylie girl left me

her lip prints. I wipe the whole surface until it
squeaks except for that sweet kiss for Grammy.

day 28: Prom

From Michelle who had a blast at her prom the other night....
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Prom

June is an awful month to have curly hair
especially when you're eighteen, the year
is 1967, the style is long and straight,
and you're going to the Senior Hop.

You get up early to wash it, wrap it around
your head, and sit like an alien under a dryer
hood. It isn't too bad. Graduation starts
at three but by then the humidity has built,

showers are imminent, and pop, pop, pop;
you can feel the ringlets springing as you
walk across the stage to receive your diploma.
A quick look in the mirror when you get home

and you know you are doomed. There just isn't
enough time for another wash and set. You feel
so unfashionable in your pretty yellow gown when
your boyfriend picks you up. But, you smile

for the pictures and make the best of it....until
about a half hour into the prom with hundreds
of Kleenex roses surrounding you, a guy trips
and spills his Coke all over the front of your dress.

You stand there all wet, all brown, all curly. You
want to cry but it won't change anything. The band
begins another corny song, you drag your boyfriend
onto the dance floor and do the only thing you can.

You dance.

Day 27: Blank 3

Blank 3

I stare at the top of my iPad screen at the title
for this document. Well, I haven't named it yet
so the program automatically calls it Blank 3.

I must have two other blanks in here somewhere.
Not bad since I have so many blanks in my brain.
Above the title is the time: 7:52 AM.

On the left it tells me I am connected to Verizon
with three dots and I have two bars on my wifi.
The other side says I'm 98% charged. Very true.

I woke up at 100% but the day is beginning to sap me
already. I was pretty much at zero when I went to bed
last night after helping a friend shop at Walmart

for several hours. She's furnishing their new home
and needed so many everyday items. I was fine
then, maybe down to 70% or so, but come evening

and a couple glasses of wine my battery depleted
very quickly. Sleep is a great recharger. So, here
I sit for the twenty-seventh morning with plenty

of energy, fully charged, the sun warm on my shoulder,
and blanks rattling around in my head. Time to give
up, make coffee, and spend some time with the husband.

Day 26: Inspiration

From Donna.....
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It's only 7:15 but Gary has already opened the living room blinds
signaling he's up for the day, time to make coffee and shower.

So much for my alone time out on the golden porch. So much
for breathing the quiet dawn and inhaling its inspiration. Damn!

Now, he's tapping on the window trying to get me back inside.
I'm ignoring him. I look around at the clothespins holding gymnastics

poses on the line, the crab buoy I found floating near Cayo Costa
one day when we were out boating, our little tangerine tree

struggling to survive. Oh, now, he's got music blaring blending
with birds songs producing a cacophony of opposites. I type

on, anyway, just to see the words creep like ants across the screen
of my iPad since nothing profound is going to slip out of my fingers today.

Day 25: Reflections

My cousin, Lucy, suggested Reflections. Aunt Dotty is her mother.
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Reflections

The sun just peeked over the ironwood trees
creating long shadows on the porch.

Fish are jumping like crazy in the canal
distorting the upside down tree reflections.

They shimmer and ripple like memories.
Yesterday, I went through old photos and found

my parents and aunts and uncles lined up
on Nonie's front stoop and I couldn't stop

looking at them. See how carefree they look?
Uncle Bob has his arm around Aunt Dee

and she in turn has hers on his. Those smiles!
Uncle George is adoring Aunt Dotty. Look how he

shines his love on her like his own sunrise. She basks
in it like she's spending a day at the beach and turns

her face to the sun, closes her eyes, and dreams.
My mom is wearing a corsage so it must be a special day.

Well, all days were special when she was with my dad.
One time, after he died, we went to Foxwoods Casino

and I remember her saying, "I'm not interested in any other man;
I loved your father so much." It wasn't the words so much

as her tone when she said it and the tears bubbling in her throat.
But, I'm thinking this is an extra special day. Maybe

someone got married. Maybe it was Easter. Maybe
my parents just got engaged. Yes, I'm going with that.

And Nonie was so happy she had to gather everyone
in their suits and smiles to save the moment forever.

It doesn't matter what happened after that, the good times
and the trying times and the normal everyday times,

just this moment near a picket fence on Champlain St.
in an old mill town, these six people were happy.

Day 24: Fog

from Mother Nature....
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Fog

I thought, for just a second
when I looked out the window,
that it was snow. See, my mind

is still in New Hampshire mode
even though we haven't been
there for three winters, now.

And, I have to admit the little
kid who lives in my chest
did a tiny pirouette. Then I

walked out onto the porch
in my nightie, something
this January girl couldn't

do up north if it really had
snowed. Still, I look out
at the grayness remembering

my evening walks around
the avenues with flakes falling
on my head and footprints

following me. I do walk at night
down here but it's just so darn
flat. Anyhooo, (that old dove

is whoooing away, again) here
I sit watching the palm trees
unmisting, swatting a fly away,

trying to turn fog and snow
into a poem that means something
but not having much luck.