LIFE GOES ON


Just what we didn’t need, a hurricane in the middle of a pandemic. Hurricane Hanna chose not to keep her distance or stay at home. Instead she chose to waltz into the Gulf of Mexico and make landfall on the Texas coast as a category 1 hurricane without much warning. The eye of the storm came in just south of Corpus Christi with some wind damage and flooding caused by rising water but no loss of lives. We were fortunate but hurricane season is just beginning.

My plumbago blooms; the cactus blooms.

President Trump tweets daily and plays golf on the weekends.

We order groceries online and do curbside pickup. A sister dies.

And life goes on. I am grateful for every day.

THREE SCORE AND TEN


Thirty-three years ago I wrote a simple poem for an old friend (REALLY old, I thought at the time) for her 70th birthday.  She has been gone for many years, but as I approach my own 70th year I remembered that poem and dug it out of my files.  It was composed in longhand and then typed without the assistance of  word processing.  In those days I often wrote basic rhyming poems for birthdays.  I am sure family and friends cringed inwardly when they got one!  Here is the poem.

For Nettie…in her Seventieth Spring

Nettie,
Ms. Lynn, if you please,
is a friend of mine,
but hard to define.

A gentle soul,
courageous fighter;
giving much,
reaching out to touch.

I see in her past
glory and sorrow.
Yet she’s come through it all,
still standing tall.

She brings sunshine and hope
wherever she goes;
a reminder of giving,
a vision of living

Happy birthday to a
lovely lady!
3/3/83

Nettie Lynn was Jewish.  Her family came to the United States from Russia.  She had only one child, a daughter, who would have been about my age had she not died as a young child.

As I enter my 70th fall…I remember Nettie and look both ways…past and future…and embrace today.

makeup

A POEM FOR THE NIGHT…


Waterview

The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows for me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake rests,
in his beauty on the water,
and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things,
who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief,
I come into the presence of still water,
and I feel above me the dayblind stars,
waiting with their light,
for a time, I rest in the grace of the world,
and am free.