For years women have taken bits
and scraps and formed
them into quilts
to keep others
warm. Today a package arrived –
a quilt sent by
a much loved friend
whose politics
I do not share. I am warmed by
the quilt she made
of honest friendship
openly shared.
JDG
We sit on the swing, you and I,
you devising a poem, me watching the ripples go by,
you thinking about tone and beat,
me thinking about cars and rules of the street.
You would pause and count syllables.
I would continue writing and listing,
listening to my music and the birds’ songs.
You and I, me and you, us two.
Two members of a family. Fifty -five years apart,
but close nonetheless.
You teaching me and learning from me
both at the same time.
Isn’t growing up bitter-sweet?
Kodi Wells
9/15/13
After a trip to DMV,
learner’s permit
in hand, we both,
my granddaughter
and I, began to bond as the
driving guide said
we would. In fact,
on that first try
we became so close that I was
practically in
her lap as she
turned sharply left.
JDG
Sometimes the very language we
use can give us
pause, can take us
deeper than we
meant to go. “On any given
day…” I began,
then stopped, hearing
for the first time
the givenness. I’ve been given
a day, I thought.
Is this how I
want to use it?
JDG
When in a fog of impatience,
fury or fatigue,
my step falters,
my balance fails
and I fall fitfully, the words
of Dogen soothe
the sharp sting. “You
get up where you
fall down. It’s where you fall that you
establish your
practice.” I then
begin again.
JDG
Clinging to the window, looking
out, that praying
mantis could see
what she could not
reach. All the waiting in the world
won’t help her get
to where she wants
to go – or so
I thought – until a hand reached out
and helped her move
past everything
that kept her trapped.
JDG
“Daddy, will you play with me with
your shoes off?” he
asked, wanting to
make sure his dad
would not wander off, but would stay
and really play.
The young boy asked
the question I
too would like to ask of you, for
sometimes I’ve looked
over and seen
you’ve traveled on.
JDG
The dogwood’s slowly turning leaves
sings fall into
being. Other
trees will soon sing
too. Already the persimmon
is tuning up
and along road’s
edge, those golden
flowers hum. A full fall chorus
begins to swell,
bidding farewell
to summer.
JDG
Even amidst the early morning haze,
those golden blooms
light my way,
bring me
home.
From
that place
I start my
day, knowing I’ll
find a way to be with whatever comes.
JDG
That mourning dove looked up at me,
a question in
her eyes and I
looked back at her
with a question of my own. “What
are you doing
sitting here as
though the road’s your
nest? Fly off before you’re hurt.” She
glanced behind me
at that looming truck
and cooed, “You too.”
JDG
