Maypole
5.18.06
this maypole planted long ago
by hope and future visions
flutters out ribbon arms
like a flamenco dancer.
they flicker and reach
for sky, the wind, the sun.
multi-colored fronds dip and twirl
tempting grasping hands to catch and hold.
the breeze drops and now
the happy strands are caught
and woven into a tight rainbow plait.
but this jester's suit, beautiful and strong,
has a loose thread
just there near the earth.
a burrowing mole peeps out at spring's first light,
catches the filament in strong teeth and tugs.
slowly, like a heart beat,
the errant strand works free
inviting its neighbors to follow.
the dance unwinds again
in the warm air
and the maypole sprouts another tender root
down deep into moist, dark soil.
posted by Barbery at 6:30 PM
1 Comments:
Greetings to a Greenwich Village Gypsy.
Someone has become a wonderful writer in these many decades. I am working my way through them slowly.
Poetry, commentary, short stories...you do them all and well.
I have to say that the ones...so far...that have the greatest impact are those which evolve around you and your children. They are wonderful...joyful in their celebration of their life and your...but also for me alittle sad.
They are so lovely and descriptive, so so descriptive. One feels there, inside something beautiful, witnessing something profound, in the context of what many might see as such work, that of childrearing. You write as if you are in there, so present with them, in relation to those children, so nurturing, so wise, so available. Your words describe simple beautiful moments...so well.
The other part of me is sad. Why? Well, I have had some difficulty with being so there in my own experience of my children. My circumstances seemed often to work against my having such, availability. Much of it I feared I created myself, a combination of the responsibilities and stresses of daily life. Some due to my endless restlessness that prevents me from remaining focused enough.
Trained as a boy, kinda like a dog with a tennis ball, moving, always moving and obvious to detail, emotional detail included.
Some of course was due to the dubious match I made. Questionable judgement but worth my daughters.
Reading your stories brings back much of the feelings that I had when my marriage finally ended, which of course was a good thing, except for the further walls it put up between myself and my two girls. Either their doing or mine. I have tried to recapture some sense of the wonder you are exploring but somedays I fear it is gone or I may have missed it. With the girls older, in their own lives more and more, it is hard to get them to be still, restless now as I was then.
On my darker days I have been overwhelmed by these feelings and the sadness very profound. Sometimes my routine visits to see my girls revives me but at others the long ride home is very quiet, perhaps too thoughtful for my own good.
So I struggle to find what you have. I am happy that you have it and I will continue to read your stories, because it is hard to turn away from them. They are so beautiful, bring back some lovely memories and give me some hope for my own future.
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