untangling the web

poetry about and photography of everyday happenings and sights


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Anger Thrumming

On a perfect fall day like today,

horror over an unprovoked attack

on a politician’s spouse

fueled by irresponsible political

rhetoric fills me with a palpable fear

over what the future holds

for my children and grandchildren.

As I hear the hum of lawnmowers

in the distance, the response to 

the violent rhetoric by some leaves me

with my mouth wide open. A governor,

my governor, makes a stupid, 

provoking statement and reckless

television hosts continue to repeat

lies so often that they become

“truths” to their hungry listeners.

The visceral fear and anger

thrums through my body, 

gets louder and louder as 

a former president whips 

up his followers and encourages 

more violence if he does not 

get his way. I ask you, if a child calls

people ugly names, makes up 

and spreads lies and excuses,

and bullies others to do the same 

what would you do? What would you do?


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My 80+ Group

(formerly my 70+ group!)

At 80 the body is

more fragile, and

we have organ

recitals when we

gather, but we still

gather. The recent

deaths of siblings

and friends, a small

stroke, and a bout

of vertigo have

made some of us feel

more vulnerable, yet 

some are feeling

happier than they 

ever have, and 

we still gather.

This circle of women

has been through

rough patches and 

we are all weathering,

but we still gather.

We have learned 

to adapt to changes,

internal and external,

mostly with grace

and appreciation, 

(but not always!),

yet we still gather. 

Each of us is 

searching for a

path to acceptance,

beauty, and joy in

the years that remain,

and as we gather we

reveal and share

what really matters,

learn from each other,

laugh and cry,

and feel the pure 

joy that radiates 

from being a member

of a circle of women.

Until life’s end,

whether in person

or via zoom, whether

in nursing homes,

retirement communities,

or our own homes,

may we continue to gather.


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The Great Mystery

What makes mist gently

move across the pond or

the pond reflect the clouds?

What makes the sound

of the wind, and why do

pine needles fall to

the ground? What makes 

the lavender flowers…these

lavender flowers at my feet

or the white ones beside them?

What makes the blue heron’s 

neck so long and why does he 

stand so still at our approach?

And what about the algae

on the fallen branch or

the orange mushrooms?

You might say that it

is all explained by science.

But what explains science?

Does anyone really know?

Do we work too hard

to make sense of it all

when perhaps we are

just meant to be amazed?


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A Time for Shedding

Blue sky, crisp breeze, a new season.

A perfect day for walking and thinking,

for shedding the mantle of sadness

that has enveloped me since

your sudden death months ago.

Now that your life has been honored,

celebrated by colleagues, friends,

and family, I will hold you close

as I accept the reality of this age,

this time at the end of the great journey

when losing loved ones is the norm.

I will look each day for the small

joys that make life worth living,

and take comfort from my circles of 

women who share a great and common tenderness.


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Nicki (1948 – 2022)

Once we were five, now

we are four. 

One sister taken before

her time just when the 

fun of retirement 

was to begin.

She was our firecracker,

born on the Fourth

of July, so smart, so

accomplished, so articulate.

A trailblazer, a scholar,

one of a few women

in a law school class,

she excelled all

the way through.

And oh my could she dance!

She had more rhythm

than the rest of us combined.

Now suddenly with

no warning, she is gone.

So how do I grieve this

shattering loss? A friend

told me there is no right 

or wrong way to grieve,

just find your own way.

And so I am. I walk, I read, 

I eat, I sleep, I cook. I look 

through old photos, talk

with children and grandchildren,

read notes and cards, speak 

with friends, take one day 

at a time, and hope that finally

this consuming sadness will be 

replaced with acceptance

and the warm glow of memories.

I know that time will come after

many tears and many months.

She has left a huge hole in our hearts.

Once we were five,

now we are four.


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Last Day of 2021

On a muggy, head-achy morning

We were graced by a heron

With its presence two times.

First in the air from the side

Of the dock with a great

swoosh of wings and air.

And later across the pond,

Still like a slender sculpture,

Until it sensed something

Wrong and turned its head

To and fro and then took off.

We were sorry to disturb its

Peace but grateful for its gift.


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December Book Club

Today each read in her own voice

a poem of her choosing,

except for one who let Maya

Angelou read her own verse,

because who would dare to

compete with that voice?

We do this every year and

each year it gets sweeter

and a bit more poignant as

those of us close to or

in our eighties do wonder

how many more times we have.

But we are not old, we are

just rare, treasures, maps

as we learned in one of

today’s poems. We keep those

poems and mark who read them

so that on those

dark, grey days of winter,

we can reach into our

“keep” folders and once more

experience the magic

of those words in

those beautiful voices.



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Just the Two of Them

We were dismayed to see

two long-time friends

in a healthcare unit,

bound by wheelchairs

and with garbled speech.

He once led us and others

on day-long canoe trips,

and she taught grammar

to corporate executives.

Yet…….

That twinkle is still in his eyes,

and her sweet smile is the same.

Though we could not make

out most of what they said,

they seemed to have a

secret language and to

understand each other.

He looked at her with

such love in his eyes,

and she smiled back.

At that moment it

was just the two of them

and they were happy.