Small Stone, July 2014 Second
Listening to the cat "meep" at the birds tells me it is time to get active. She honestly is more reliable than any mechanical alarm.
July Writing Project - A Poem A Day - Day Two
Bereft
The coffee pot sits cold. At a time when
something to do - anything to do -
would be a welcome burden
she is left alone
Today is the first day in more than
fifty-five years
that she will not hear his voice
see his smile.
She cannot bring herself to brew
a pot just for her. And food?
How does she know what she will eat
without his needs to dictate the menu?
Other deaths she has endured
with the strength she drew from knowing
he was there to share the weight
and help fill the voids.
Now the absence of
him has ripped open the repairs
his love made to her heart
through the years.
They preplanned the necessities, drawing
upon the losses they shared
as a blueprint.
"This is what we shall do when ..."
One can preplan away. Preplan vacations,
parties, weddings, reunions. Even funerals.
This song, that casket, the favorite suit,
a graveplot by the line of trees.
But no amount of planning or warnings
from doctors or prophetic dreams
could have prepared her
for this specific morning.
The chore of brewing coffee for one
and deciding what she will eat
all by herself
for the rest of her days.
Second Noticing July 2014
The cat is chasing what I cannot see or hear across the floor. I think she is funny and I chuckle outloud. She gives me one of those disdainful, superior feline glares. I wonder if she thinks I see and hear what she does?
Listening to the cat "meep" at the birds tells me it is time to get active. She honestly is more reliable than any mechanical alarm.
July Writing Project - A Poem A Day - Day Two
Bereft
The coffee pot sits cold. At a time when
something to do - anything to do -
would be a welcome burden
she is left alone
Today is the first day in more than
fifty-five years
that she will not hear his voice
see his smile.
She cannot bring herself to brew
a pot just for her. And food?
How does she know what she will eat
without his needs to dictate the menu?
Other deaths she has endured
with the strength she drew from knowing
he was there to share the weight
and help fill the voids.
Now the absence of
him has ripped open the repairs
his love made to her heart
through the years.
They preplanned the necessities, drawing
upon the losses they shared
as a blueprint.
"This is what we shall do when ..."
One can preplan away. Preplan vacations,
parties, weddings, reunions. Even funerals.
This song, that casket, the favorite suit,
a graveplot by the line of trees.
But no amount of planning or warnings
from doctors or prophetic dreams
could have prepared her
for this specific morning.
The chore of brewing coffee for one
and deciding what she will eat
all by herself
for the rest of her days.
Second Noticing July 2014
The cat is chasing what I cannot see or hear across the floor. I think she is funny and I chuckle outloud. She gives me one of those disdainful, superior feline glares. I wonder if she thinks I see and hear what she does?
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