then June and Evan's baptism. The parents adored M--how otherwise? It was a wonderful visit and seeing Kate's work at the gallery made it moreso.
I am in a poetic state of mind in so many ways and I am thinking too, about how well it all works out. I mean the course of things and the way I used to every-so-often post something to the effects of a gratitude for the people in my life, those that stayed and those who've left, each giving me a major gift is doing so. I have a treasure chest of friends and family, rarely is the moment that I don't see them and think how stupidly-fortunate I am for what I do, who I love and what I attract to me. I am terribly grateful for my good taste and the suspect taste of those around me. :-) And I am proud of my peeps. One of my favorite poets ever, really I could get more superlative but I will spare her, is a serious finalist for a serious dream press for a collection of her poems. Should she win, I am flying north fast and we are celebrating! But she was won already, it is a tough contest and she is in the final round with her first book and who knows whic books by which famous writers are with hers. Only that it doesn't matter. She has won and I have won by getting to read her poems all these years and to say: celebrate this, celebrate now, celebrate everything! To Veace, I raise the first glass of our upcoming bubbly-fest!
There is much to be bubbly about these days. Things just took a serious right turn and I am feeling very good about the choices of the last few years.
At the Mall
It’s a long time now since the cedar tree
That you and Martha Spicer inscribed
With your twined initials was reduced to shingles
For a house later torn down to make way
For the Northtown Mall, the very mall
You walk now on rainy mornings.
In a few more weeks of the exercise program
Prescribed by your doctor, you should feel the strength
Lost with your triple-bypass finally returning.
Then you’ll confront the years still left you
With the zeal they merit, or the fortitude.
Be sure you’re in line when the mall doors open,
Before the aisles fill with serious shoppers
Intent on finding items more sturdy
Than their bodies are proving to be.
Could Martha Spicer be among them?
What you felt for each other back then
Didn’t survive the separation of college,
Though now it seems careless of you
Not to have kept in touch. Maybe you’ve passed her
Unrecognized as she’s looked for gifts
To make her grandchildren curious
About the world they live in, a book, say,
Devoted to local trees. On the cover
A cedar stands resplendent, the very kind
She carved her initials in long ago
With a boy whose name may be resting now
On the tip of her tongue. Try to imagine her
Hoping he hasn’t wasted his time on wishes
That proved impractical, like her hill house
Bought for its vista that proved in winter
Inaccessible to a snowplow. If he made that mistake,
Let him move back to town as she did
And focus like her on keeping her windows open
So a fragrance blown from afar can enter easily.
“Come in, come in,” that’s what you’ll want to say;
“I’ve waited for you all day, and here you are.”