Saturday, February 27, 2021

As noted in my last post, I'm having a lot of fun in the YMCA's virtual poetry group. We have an assignment each time. The poem I published mid-month was in response to "Take a walk in your neighborhood and describe it (real or virtual)." Several months ago the assignment was "Respond to a work of art." Here's my finished poem from that assignment.

RESPONSE TO "COMPOSITION"    

I loved you the minute I saw you,

recognizing I was looking in the mirror.

That's how it felt. I'm gray, as well, 

and my pieces are all here, too.

Yet still I don't quite fit together.

Should I scrunch and force the shapes 

to flat completion? Or let them

float to settle on their resting place? 

Or should I hide within my fading 

edge to just enjoy the disarray? 

Monday, February 15, 2021

Gratitude

I have lots to be grateful for--just having a roof over my head for starters. But I'm also glad for a poetry group I belong to. It was formed a few months ago by the YMCA. What? you ask. The Y has a poetry group? Yes, for the simple reason that its mission is to promote healthy living--body, mind, and spirit. Concerned for its members who are older and likely lonely during the pandemic, the YMCA of Greater Seattle formed a committee of staff and volunteers to develop activities for its older members to participate in from home. Yes, there were (and are) wonderful virtual exercise sessions for healthy bodies, but also things like cooking classes, Laughter Yoga, Forest Bathing, and a myriad of topics to tantalize and intrigue its older members so we don't become too lonely or desolate in the imposed social isolation.

Every Friday different opportunities and ideas were presented throughout 2020 from late spring. Enter the "Try Your Hand at Writing Poetry" offering on two consecutive Friday mornings in fall of 2020. The first session was an informal introduction and a challenge to write one poem on an assigned topic to share (optionally) the following week with the group. This opportunity appealed to a surprising number of people and it's been adding participants and meeting over Zoom for one-hour sessions twice a month ever since. We get an assignment each time--and read our poems to each other the following meetup. We aren't expecting to develop into T.S. Elliotts or e.e. cummingses or Mary Olivers. We are doing it for fun, but there has been some beautiful poetry shared by the writers. Terry Busch, a local poet, invents the assignments and gently mentors us. The Zoom sessions are hosted and overseen by the Y. Two weeks ago I rhymed the assignment: "Write about a walk in your neighborhood." I offer it here--for a fun change of pace. 

Gratitude While Walking the Sammamish River Trail

My home is on a quiet street. 
It's easy enough to walk 'the beat' 
but I don't always want to. 
So I go beyond the community fence 
to better relax, to get less tense 
and enjoy the splendid trail view. 

As I start down the well-worn path 
a racing biker shouts in wrath 
at a child who's weaving on her bike. 
Her protective mom is yelling out, 
demonstrating her parental clout. 
"It's her trail, too--go take a hike!" 

I smile at them both, then hurry by, 
and looking up, see brightening sky 
rebuffing supposed scattered showers. 
I thank my stars for these lovely walks 
and food and shelter and daily talks 
with friends and family, some for hours. 

My walks along this well-used trail 
provide release from Covid jail, 
inspiring me to let things go. 
Crows are cawing, trees are swaying 
unaware what the news is saying. 
Maskless Mother Nature needn't know. 

Fresh air is mine to breathe and use 
but with it comes my lifelong dues 
to care intentionally for all. 
My personal privilege shields me 
from much despairing intensity 
that lurks beneath the Covid pall.