What can I tell you?
Of course the world is turned upside down:
Wars and worries wear thin
Even though the seams.
But the sweater of the years was knitted tight,
Weathered wool that softens and warms
The prickliest skin.
I’ve had that sweater for many years
And I’ve faced the nighttime shakes
Until then, never did the chill
Until then is too often still now
But I am better.
With better comes hope
And hope is the warmth
Of days to come.
So why am I not writing more poems? It is because I work in the city three days a week? Because I'm trying to finish the novel that won't quit? Because I don't see Jess and Mike and the kids enough as it is? Because I have this new research gig? Because I try to visit my Mother several times a week? Because I love the holidays and I'm getting ready! Because I blog surf with glee? Because I have chores? Because I can't write about loss one more time without thinking myself ridiculous.
In any case. here is an old and new poem and I'n glad to post it.