Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Monday, December 3, 2012
PLOTTING THE RESURRECTION
Old, too long Brooks raincoat,
little, round wool hat, galoshes...
as years went by there was something
comical, yet touching about Katharine's
gray appearance on this one day
in the fall she got herself up for laying out
the spring bulb garden.
With diagram and clipboard in hand
she waddled to the director's chair-
a folded canvas thing placed for her
at the edge of the plot where she sat
hour after hour, in wind and weather
as Henry produced dozens of brown bags
full of new bulbs and a basketful
of old ones ready for the intricate interment.
Small, hunched over figure absorbed
in the implausible notion
there would, indeed, be another springtime
with its pinks and greens and yellows,
oblivious to the end of her own days,
she knew perfectly well was near at hand...
there she sat with her detailed chart
beneath dying October skies
plotting the resurrection.
* Poem found in E.B. White's introduction to his wife's book,
Onward and Upward in the Garden.
Grandmother's screened-in-porch was ivy-bound.
The way she pinned green leaves to the screen
you would have thought them tresses of the sun.
She had such heart spun ways of doing things-
with silver ropes of hair let down for love
she used hairpins to pin the glory up.
NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY
Every day now
the journey-bound hickory-
in flower before leafing out-
opens another, another,
and still another
with catkins as tufted
as a young man 's chin,
the gifted tree
going green in its gold
leaves me to write
Nesting Laughing Gull
of shoreline grass
a speckled green egg
to the lub-a-dub sounds
of laughter on the wing.
*Poems in Avocet by Betty Spence