untangling the web

poetry about and photography of everyday happenings and sights

Tag Archives: poetry


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Keepers

Note: At a recent meeting of my 70+ (now 80+!) group of women, our assignment was to share “keepers,” in other words moments in our lives, past or present, that brought us joy. Mine are in this poem.

There was the time recently

When Luna and I were on

A visit to the County Jail

And she remembered a

Young man from another

Visit and curled up 

Against him, and when he

Moved on to another dog

She went over and licked 

His ear as if to say, come

Back to me, we have a

Special bond. And he grinned.

And on that same visit I

Can see the tattooed

Young man rolling on

The floor with a blind

Dog who knew him

By his smell and brought

To him moments of

Pure joy and a memory

Of the outside world.

And then there were

Those hours on a 

Sunday afternoon when

We celebrated poetry

And women’s friendships,

A gift from my family

That will never be

Forgotten as I see

Each face and hear

Each voice and immerse

Myself in the memory

Of a perfect gift.


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Paying Attention

On a cold morning

with thoughts scampering

in and through, words formed

and then forgotten, 

Luna and I walked

and mused, then stopped and 

paid attention. We

saw poetry on a 

twig, in frost-covered

grass, and flashing off 

a mallard’s green head.

We heard it in the

bird song, and sniffed it 

in the sharp, clean air.


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January 4, 2023

A blue jay brings a vivid flash of color to

the reedy branches of a naked bush

beside the pond. Songs of a

robin sweeten the air and

a mallard couple, he with

his emerald green head

and yellow beak, swim

from the shore barely

missing four geese who

peacefully approach. The

heads of the mallard couple

begin to pulse up and down to

their own tempo. Hissing brakes 

of a school bus assault the peace 

and Luna swishes her way amidst the 

pine needles and I wonder what she senses.


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Running Cedar

On this morning’s walk with

Luna, I see the running

cedar scampering through

the woods and stop and

pull up one strand and

then another until my

hands are full, reminding

me of the search for it

and mistletoe so many

years ago. I put it in a tub

of water to soak when

I get home and add some

holly and boxwood, and

thoughts of how to use

them float through my mind.

Now as I lie here I wonder

if I will use them with the 

creche or on the mantelpiece

or maybe on the railing.

Will there be enough?

Will I have the energy?

I really don’t know, but you

know what? It’s okay

if I don’t; I just enjoyed

finding and gathering it.


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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.