poetpotter

My father died in May after spending 11 weeks in a hospice, where he got excellent care. I did quite a bit of writing during that time and since, some of it was poetry and the rest was in my blogging. This was one I wrote on March 15th when we still had some wintry weather outdoors. Thinking of the tributes in words and flowers, here's a revised edition of one and a bouquet after it. Bouquet I gather up all the moments and hold them as a bouquet You looking over the fields from your bed still thinking like a farmer, how the crops will grow how we need to mind the environment Your smile when your body no longer cooperated wanting to keep in touch with life outside those walls The way you always loved our mother and us, and how you'd shown us to love others too The way you taught and protected us even that day, from your bed, telling me to drive safely I gather all these moments and more and hold them like a fragrant offeri

Today the sky is clear where we are, but yesterday, clouds nearly covered the sky, with patches of blue between them. I could find a photo of clouds, but this time I'll let you imagine them, as we do sometimes, trying to match a shape of white to something it resembles. Clouds Some days the clouds are only cotton puffs in the sky but other days like sheets of batting in Grandma’s quilt a miles-long blanket that keeps the sun from peeking through cottonpuffsjoinedtogether mashedpotatohills    dumplings without the gravy Holes in clouds need no mending They let the sun shine to the earth below Tractor tire clouds can’t be copied Monstrous black clouds with thunder and lightning before the       r         a            i              n Each one is as different as you and I