March was very hectic, but I did manage to attend four of five sessions for the Binghamton Poetry Project. Our reading took place on April first, but I missed it as it was the same afternoon as our University Chorus concert.
I haven’t had a chance to collect my anthology yet, but these three poems are my contribution. The first two were written from prompts during our sessions and the last one I wrote in response to the tongue-in-cheek suggestion of one of the Grapevine Group poets that we each write a snow poem after our big storm.
Enjoy! (And comment if you are so moved…)
Her breaths are fast and shallow
I untie her sneakers,
work them off,
pull off her socks,
help her out of her shirt and pants,
slip her nightgown on.
She sits on the edge
of the bed,
pivots to lie down,
but needs me to lift
I pull up the covers,
close the door,
and wait for the X-ray results.
Her cardiac rehab is Tuesday and Thursday mornings.
He rides with her in the retirement home van,
helps her navigate into the lift with her walker,
sits with her in the waiting room
until she is called into therapy
where he is not allowed to follow.
Her exercises accomplished,
they board the van for the ride
back home to their apartment
where lunch awaits.
After sixty-two years of marriage,
he does not want her to go
The forecast was for an inch overnight
with Five to Eight to follow;
then, One to Three
with Six to Nine.
I rose before the daylight-saving
delayed dawn to find
a foot of snow already down,
consequence of a more westerly
born of long-ago New England winters,
to clear the overnight
accumulation from the driveway,
every few inches,
add in the front walk
and path to the mailbox
as strength allows.
A good plan,
but overly ambitious
for a Five foot One-and-a-half inch
with a shovel
contending with the wake
and snow falling at Two
by Five o’clock
and still snowing.
Seven bouts of shoveling,
Twelve thousand, ninety-one Fitbit steps,
and Two blessed assists
from the neighbors’ snowblower
yield a driveway cleared to a road
under a county-wide travel ban,
a path to a mailbox that may
be filled with today’s mail