Four Poems

Oh hello. We went to New York last weekend. It’s been one of the unexpected pleasures of moving back East. We hop on the train, explore, eat, see, walk and then tired and sated, ride the train back home. We stopped by to visit our friend, Jill, who I wrote about last time.

Jill’s birthday was last month and my youngest daughter made her a bookmark and snow globe. We brought her donuts and talked about life as of late. The new Bob Dylan biopic, the girl’s hobbies and passions, the moon landing (ha), mutual friends, Jimmy’s anesthesia job, her childhood and parents, books and field hockey. She’s 81! What a life.

June took the photo of Jill's hand and coffee warmer. I love it.

She mostly reads all day now. Her hearing is not great so it gets harder to watch films and listen to music or her beloved NPR. I can’t remember how the conversation topic started but we talked about keeping your creative mind sharp. Even in her mostly stationary state, her brain is always going. She imparted that creative work ethic onto the girls. Always use those muscles, keep that fire metabolizing. Then she gave them an assignment: write one poem per week and mail them to her. Their eyes lit up. All four of us agreed to participate. We’re suckers for a low-key ongoing challenge. Diana got a contract in writing:

And with permission, I’m paying them forward. Four short poems for a hectic week:

Winter’s Item by June
Snow globes near and far
Little, itty, bitty jars.
Sparkle here, sparkle there.
In Jill’s hand, they appear.

The Night Before Last by Jimmy
A sticky note slapped on my wallet.
Illegible.
Is that a “C” or “G”?
I wrote this note myself. My own handwriting.
Ridiculous.
Too embarrassed to ask for a second opinion.
A light bulb in my head!
Garbage. 
It’s garbage day.
A palm slapped against my forehead.

The Moon by Kate
Jill says we should go to the moon.
But I’m scared, I say.
The hell with that, she says. 
I’m going to the moon and I’m taking you with me.

Love by Diana
Oliver said
I’ll never fall 
in love, so
I don’t trust it. 

Until next time,
Kate