Discovery Drafts

Every night you gave me A green lifesaver After you and Mom Went to bed. Once Mom was situated You’d come back, Your stooped, slow gait As sure as the clock on the wall And the beat of Mom’s oxygen machine. “Love you.” “Love you, Dad.’ And off you’d go To bed to keep an eye on Mom. I’d stay up to Have a glass of wine. My heart would Get in time With Mom’s machine. Time would tick on. I saved the Lifesaver For the ride home A sacramental offering To love and its history. When Gram was dying She had a roll of five-flavor Lifesavers. I watched her peel her way down To the green one. Not a frugal Yankee move-- Not one at a time and you’ll get  To your favorite when it gets to you. She wanted what she wanted And, dying, would have it. My favorite color. My favorite flavor. I told you. You remembered-- With and for me. We will have what we want. “I love you.” “Remember to turn the light out." “Sure, Dad.”

 In the distance  A branch cracks Under her weight Then the air stops moving She is here but distant: The doe. Her tail twitches twice In the cool green shade Her ears twitch. She lowers her head, Raises her tail, Turns, Gambols into the Brighter space Deeper in the woods. She is fearless. Her body a vast warm canvas Of gentle life Choosing her way Accepting recognition.

Where are you, Mom and Dad? Do you rest? Are you at peace? Open air and sunshine Salt and sand, warm stones And the slurring sweep Of ocean water returning To the vastness beyond us Called always. No time to stay Always a moon A darkness A dream Elsewhere With a promise Of return. Are you there On that island You called your own When you were young, That became our own When we were a family-- The sunshine and wet sneakers Coppertone and skin That burned anyway Lunch in paper wrappers From the deli Blankets and towels And time To face the sun. Are you there? And if not, where? Where is peace, And where is the rest? (Little Tavern is the island in Long Island Sound near Norwalk Harbor where Mom and Dad wished to have their ashes scattered.)

Mid-September And a hummingbird Zooms in Searching the geranium For a new red blossom. My flowers are tired;  There are no flowers on the potted plants, Though out front, Where the hummingbird is not, Close to the earth The yellow roses assert themselves And the pink geraniums carry on Alongside them. These are Mom’s colors. I chose these plants for this garden To remind me of her And the flowers I put  In her window boxes So she could enjoy color As she battled cancer From the couch. She thought she would win. She is gone. The hummingbird persists. It’s maybe too late But I will buy a feeder for tomorrow.  

 Tomorrow, September 12, would have been Litchfield High School's second Relay for Life in support of cancer survivors and caregivers. We had to postpone until May 1, 2021, in the name of safety because of Covid-19, so we are doing a virtual luminaria ceremony tomorrow to raise awareness and much-needed funds. Students will post pictures of loved ones who have survived or succumbed to cancer and light a candle in their memory. We are going to put our signs and candles out on our front porches. My memorial to my Mom will be outside then, too. If you can support our Relay at all, please click on the link below. Any amount you can give will go a long way to helping folks with cancer. Who knows which dollar will fund the cure? I do--yours. Here's the link to our Relay .

  This vast area was a pond not so many years ago.  Once, there was a massive beaver lodge in easy view from the road, and a Canada goose would stand sentinel on top of it from time to time.  Now, this watery area is filling up with wildflowers and birds as what was once a beaver pond becomes a beaver meadow, rich in life.  The things you notice when you stick around for a while.... Our World Tuesday

Bright yellow tea rose Blooms on your September day Always here, there you are

On a knoll A hind Watching Curious Walking toward us No fear Closer and closer and closer Follows us into the woods Watching Closer and closer Cool gray morning Quiet A blue jay chimes the hour Throaty bell calling the day Quiet steps No broken branches Following On the soft ground Soft eyes Unblinking, wide Spirit made visible You watch You are seen You let us go You watch You follow Sure and warm For my beautiful Mom, Sandra Isbell Wiley Carlson, on what would have been her 79th birthday.