Best Wishes

Best Wishes!


Gathered we are
Our dearly Beloved
‘round all the faces
well wishers, and offers to
lovers their witness
of hallowed commitment
We stand here sustaining
Your pledge.

We weep for the beauty
Renewing the dream
Of life, and the promise
Of everything
we hold most dear
And most dear for you
Our beloved too

We recall our
Day of all days
Our happy occasion
We know what you’re feeling
Those feelings o’erwhelming
And lift you up in thoughts
Of beautiful wings
Wings of love

And that’s why we weep
Tears of joy
And best wishes……


Written for my Cousin Mary Louisa Jordan

A Familiar Garden View

When I was a teen my mother had a garden
With hibiscus planted all along our drive,
And Confederate rose and wandering Jew
too.
My favorite exercise was mowing in my white
Miss America bathing suit with my hair pulled in a
pony tail and tennis shoes.
So every home I’ve ever owned,
from mobile home
to five o’er four
I’ve had a garden of some type.
Now, these final twenty years, my views are garden views.
In so many ways, I’m still that golden girl;
Some intrinsic things cannot be let go.
I’m waiting for the drop of this daily heat
To walk in grass the deepest, deepest Irish green.
In this place of conspicuous performers
Verbena tendrils race in tangled mass.
Over-wintered, running almost from control,
Verbena such a tidy bloom,
Belies your tangled under view,
Along the edge of old concrete.
Backlit by the sunset filtered through the trees
Sonal, tepid air, a point where two sprays arc and meet
And at their juncture, there the droplets turn to steam.
Contrast sharply drawn in hues of gold and green and palest blue,
Blue the color of my childhood room.
I stick to simple things to grow and gratify.
Over years I’ve learned my limitations well.
My past from Alabam, to VA, to Florida, NC, now back to Florida where
The soil’s deficient in every thing but sand.
But at this time in my life sand’s best for me.
So my simple garden ministrations
To provide my sultry, sonal, steamy view
Are things that may be grown in sand
And don’t preclude this weakened hand.
As I look at all that must be done on my tiny homestead
The microcosm of this garden,
Each connecting area of sight,
Reminds me of childhood romps in water sprayed,
Just like today,
And verbena Mother grew in Ocean View.
Canna lillies, impatiens, coleus, and herbs, numerous
Conjure other places, times,
Watching birds and flowers grow, especially familiars.
I putter on, pulling weeds, and taking cuttings, and wondering when
that long-limbed girl will reappear to mow.
No wonder crones like me love their gardens so!

















Sonal, tepid air, an arc where two sprays meet
And at their juncture, the droplets turn to steam

Testify

I’m not a man
Will I suffice
To testify?
Since that hormone
I have not
Or have not in manly portion
Nor that gland
But a brain I have
And I’ve been told
My hormone’s the strongest
Of all known drugs,
Estrogen!
No disrespect here
Just a clarification
My testimony influenced
By my station,
Woman,
I am.

Late Thoughts on Mother's Day

If you’re from Botswana and say someone is “late” it means they are dead. So the title “Late Life”,etc. is really an oxymoron in Botswana because dead and life are opposites. Well I’m not dead yet, I’m not even in the anteroom! We recently celebrated Mother’s Day, though and this was my second Mother’s Day without my late mom. Mom died in 2009 at 81 .
My mom was absolutely sold on her kids. She believed in us all, including the failures and would do anything she could to help us. She defended us and always portrayed us in the most positive light. The family secrets were in the vault. She kept from us any event that she thought was shameful or that she felt would harm our self-esteem, or hers for that matter. We were never told the events behind her father’s death. He was shot by a policeman while committing a crime. Since she was a teenager at that point it’s hard to imagine the impact this must have had on her life. She married young and unsuccessfully. Her first marriage ended in divorce. Her second marriage to my father was rocky pretty soon too. Her third marriage to my father also –a few days before my birth was rocky but lasted until I got out of high school and married. I know the toll this divorce took on her because I was old enough to understand the dynamics and emotions. I was never privy to the details though. My mom could and did keep many secrets.
My parents had a financially stable life because my father had skills in electronics that were in high demand by the military. We travelled not dissimilar to folks in the military with assignments near military bases where my dad would instruct servicemen in the radio equipment his company manufactured. I was an only child for six years and I have to believe that was because mom wanted to be sure the marriage was going to last. Finally they added my sister and when I was nine a brother. When I was fourteen their last child, another son, was born. So four kids spread out over fourteen years. Then just four years later they divorced.
I can’t go into all the details because , after all, I am my mother’s daughter. I really believe the divorce was my due to my dad’s mid-life crisis. I wish I had known him better in those last years but he headed out west and I wasn’t in touch with him much. He died with cancer at an early age.
Mama started another family with a man ten years younger and they were happy until his health declined and he died. That’s how I ended up with a sister 23 years younger than I am. The years Mom was married to Tony were happy years for the most part. There were still some secrets lurking about. After Tony died she was beset by a number of serious health issues but she battled back from all of them to a baseline existence in a little mobile home in Alabama where she and Tony had ended up after he had lost both legs to diabetes. At every stage she was fully engaged and making the best of her situation. Downsizing to more manageable circumstances.
Mama eventually moved in with my younger sister in Gadsden. When my sister died unexpectedly Mama went into a nursing facility and was there for two years. She came to live with me the last six weeks of her life. My only regret was that it wasn’t for longer.
When I encounter problems with my children I often think of my mom and how she would have handled the situation. What I’m always impressed by is her generosity and her acceptance. I realize it’s because she had such a difficult young life and remembered how hard it was just to get by.

She gave to us beyond her resources. It’s of note to me that the ones she gave the most to treated her the shabbiest. I wish I could say she loved us all the same but I know it isn’t true!