Her Hands

This was written a week and a half ago... and I updated the tense... life continues to be ever so slightly busy and off kilter...

"Yesterday" was a chaotic day of trying to decide if we had time, and could that time be stretched to cover all the bases.  It was decided that time would tear if stretched that far unless we used two people.
So my husband went alone to his dying mother's side, he was already more than half-way there in Southern Maine.  I'm glad that we could stretch it that far.  But I missed supporting my mother-in-law and my husband in this hour. 

She was not one to stand on ceremony and would tell you that you didn't need to attend any old funeral for her.  But I know in her heart she still would care.  My daughter and I made the 11+ hour drive to Presque Isle a week and a half ago for her service.  It was a long but leisurely drive once we got into Maine.  Half of the trip is outside of Maine, half is just Maine.

Northern Maine has not always been near and dear to my heart.  I didn't know it existed until I met my husband to be.  At that point I began learning about The County, and all the different types of potatoes and how the sky was just as big over oceans of potatoes as it is over the water. 
There are very few places in this world I could live besides near the ocean, and Aroostook County is one of them. My first year teaching was in the small town where my husband was born and spent his entire pre-marriage life.  Winters are cold, the snows are deep, and the wind howls as it piles up drifts over the roads and covers windows.

I will miss going up there for family gatherings.  Our connection is gone.  A strong woman has strode off into heaven.  She was plowing to the post.  She made it.   Straight and narrow... and now everything is opened up wide and beautiful... maybe even prettier than Aroostook County potato fields.

Her Hands

Her hands were gnarled

with veins like maps

of where she'd been

and beans she'd snapped.

They worked the fields

and picked the rocks

released from winter

fields unlocked.

From wet of bogs

To widest lands

Fiddleheads and berries

Knew her hands.

 

They hung the wash

on lines outside

Till County's heavenly

breezes dried.

Her hands could bake

and they could sew

They planted trees

and they could mow.

When came the fall,

and frosty weather

Her hands slipped into

Gloves of leather.

Katahdins, Mountains

From deep, rich soil -

Her hands helped glean

The County's oil.

Hand in hand

Beside her men -

God knows she'd

Do it all again.

And though her hands

are now at rest,

Proof still remains

her hands had blessed. 

by Donna JT Smith

(daughter-in-law)

It's Poetry Friday.  I'm late, but I've squeezed in a bit of poetry at the end.
Carol Varsalona at Beyond LiteracyLink is hosting today!

Summer Sweet Swaps 2019

I had a late start to summer...like I'm starting it now.  I could have just skipped it, but theoretically and in reality, it doesn't stop until autumn begins, and that isn't for a while yet...especially if you aren't a student or a teacher, or a parent of a student.  I was all of those things (or people), but now I'm retired and seasons according to the rulings of a school district don't apply.  For most of my life they have applied, and it is very freeing to think about summer extending as long as it feels like summer and at least as long as the actual calendar says it is summer and not autumn.

So today, I am celebrating summer and the deliciousness of summer swaps (thanks, Tabatha!).  I received some awesome and encouraging swaps this summer.   The words sent me have been beautiful and just what I needed to remind myself to keep on swimming, riding, being strong.

in no particular order, I received the following precious poetic packages:

From Linda Mitchell:

Salt water taffy with cut out paint chip names on each one...poem prompts! - I've been pretty focused on this type of stuff as we work on the house in Friendship and think of cabinet colors, or colors in my son's home that he's renovating.

From Jone Rush MacCulloch:

Jone sent a beautiful photo she took in Paige, AZ.  It's mounted on wood with her poem on the image.  I have it sitting in the living room area by the tv.  It is such a beautiful, almost abstract image of sandstone.

sandstone walls

echo the ancient

stories of

river sky

vermillion constellations

of secret canyon

©jone rush macculloch

From Carol Varsalona:

You roar ahead full of steam
with bold, determined actions
on your faith-filled life journey

©Carol Varsalona

Twisting, turning, uphill, down
your winding path continues
family first in front view

©Carol Varsalona

Morning light captures
nature's breathless beauty
seaside stillness

©Carol Varsalona

Thanks, Carol!  This was beautiful.  Getting part in the mailbox and another part as a working document was really creative!  So many facets to this one!

From Tabatha Yeatts:

Tabatha sent a swap early on, but for some reason, this is all I can find of it now!  Judging from the carpet, it was when I was watching grandchildren.  When I went to her site to see the post recapping it, I recognized it.  But I have yet to locate it again.  It must be at the other part of the house, maybe having gotten mixed with some craft materials in a bin.  And someday we will come across it again and be very surprised!
I loved how Tabatha's search lead her on a wonderful chase through history!

From Jan Godown Annino:

Jan put a SUMMER acrostic poem on a wonderful fan.  I can't tell you how many times I used it this summer.  It is much warmer in PA than in Maine, and especially before we got our AC in, it was pretty miserable.  I always like to carry a fan around with me, so this was great.  It sat beside my chair for easy grabbing whenever I was overtaken by the heat.

SUMMER
Sifts suns rays through pinewood blinds
Understands creek's insistence that I step in, splash, stay to play
Minds not the sandy porch, the muddy sneaker, grass-stained dress
Misses nothing of winter
Expects respect for the amble, mosey, walk that puddles into hillside nap
Requires nothing, nothing, nothing

© 2019 Jan Godown Annino

From Margaret Simon:

Our House is Just a House 

©Margaret Simon

Our house is just a house

full of stuff we like

arranged on a shelf

pleasing and speaking their stories

Our house is just a house

holding our furniture, a table

from grandmother, a desk from his aunt,

and a sofa we thought was the softest in the store.

Our house is just a house

where the kitchen window

frames a perfect day,

the call of birds, the scent of roses.

Our house is just a house

through faithful tides.

When bits are worn

then carried far away - Love remains.

© Margaret Simon

The perfect leaving a home and making another house your home poem...thanks, Margaret.  I love it.

Finale:

And now I've decided that I will write a poem about all the swapping and poems.
*Okay, no, I won't.  It decided it would be a found poem from words/lines/phrases from all the shares!

Our House

Our house

sifts sun's rays

in the early morn,

minds not the sandy porch.

Walls echo

speaking their stories.

Memories, old and sweet,

of family,

faithful tides,

seaside stillness,

roses

and seaglass

linger.

by Donna JT Smith, 2019, 

with a little help from my friends!

You don't know what and how much these all meant to me.  There were so many times I felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, or like Dorothy caught up in the tornado...with things slipping by me or me sliding by them.   Staying grounded was my main focus this past year.  Not sure if I...no...I'm pretty sure I WASN'T successful all the time.  I tried, though!

More poetry and poetry links may be found this Poetry Friday at  Poetry for Children.

My Poem Swappers

I so want to apologize to my Poetry Swap buddies.  I should have just taken this year off.  Every post from May 1 on has been a journey outside of the daily stuff.  And most times I just can't get past the daily stuff.  Even this moment I am eyeing the clock...gotta be somewhere in a few minutes so I don't want to get so involved that I get lost in time.
After the purchase of the home in PA, we had to return in spring to prepare the home in ME for sale.  Now that is sold, I am back in PA and my husband is in ME helping renovate my son's home.
A variety of extraneous issues that I don't want to go into have drawn attention from one thing to another in rapid succession.  I can't discuss all of it, but just know, it has been mind-boggling and randomly concerning.  If it isn't one thing, it's another.  However, there have been enough good things to keep smiling in between...just not enough TIME smiling to relax.  I'm always waiting for the next shoe to drop lately.

That all being said, I want to assemble all the Poetry Swap items that I received over the summer and share them.  I couldn't do it for this week, but next Friday I will.  If you sent me a poem, would you email me for confirmation that I received it.  It has been so hectic with getting mail in one place, and being split for weeks at a time this summer between ME and PA, and moving stuff that got put on top of or stuck inside of things by me or someone else if I wasn't around.  So disorganized at times.  Slowly we are getting things straight, but I could easily miss something.  I already know I've misplaced one exchange from Tabatha.  I took a picture of the envelope...remember reading it...and can't for the life of me find it now.  I've been back and forth to Maine a couple of times, or three, since I got it.  And often my husband has been here instead of me for that time, so who knows where he put it!  Our apartment is still in disarray and I seem to be constantly misplacing things because there is either no place for it yet, or it is hiding behind things that have no place to be yet!

This is just too much of a ranting explanation of the whirlwind that has become my life.  So I apologize for that, too!  Lol!

Gotta go.  I have to watch a grandchild for a bit.  I wonder if I can write a poem while I am there.  Maybe I'll "find" one in the above. 

Let's see.  1, 2, 3, GO!

Poetry of Life

Will it rhyme or be discordant?
Weep, or laugh, or be informant?
Is there some time to tell a tale,
Or will it be too soon, too stale?
While others gifted summer songs
I have sorted write from wrongs.
Random whirlwinds shuffled life
Ties were cut with dullish knife
But as all gales are settled down
I'll watch and wonder for the sound
Of rhyming whispers in my ear
(I'm hoping by the close of year)
Yet if fresh words are not relayed
Life's poetry's just been delayed;
To me, there is no better thing
Than making pen and paper sing.
I hope to soon resume the game
that calls for me to sign my name.
And not just on house buying stuff
Of that I've had my fill - enough!
Back to the whimsy of a write
That overtakes without a fight.

by Donna JT Smith

Okay.  I had a few interruptions mid every step today, but I persevered!  Just a little fight grasping words to slap on paper...or screen, that is.

Enjoy more poetry from me sporadically.  I will try to get around to YOU.  That may be easier than ME getting to writing.

Today's Poetry Friday host is Kathryn Apel, with two great books reviewed and a very nice bit of news!

Trees and More

It's time to celebrate poetry.  Today's topic is trees if ya got one....and I remembered this one I have on my blog...so I'm reposting it.  Yesterday I just happened to take a picture of this tree in the schoolyard where my grandchildren were learning to ride their bikes. It is a spectacular oak - so huge!  What a great thing for a school playground.  Though it was hot and muggy, the tree's shade made it the perfect temperature and you could feel a breeze sitting beneath its sheltering boughs.

Poet Tree

 A
little
word
I wrote
one day
I really had
too much to say
I could not write it all
I was much too small but
then I learned about Haiku
so short and stout and then I
knew
that would do
so I wrote a little poem
that said more than it’s words
and from that grew a wish and need
to spread
my words like apple seeds and learn not
to rhyme all the time
one day my tree grew branches and I had more to say
so much more and so much
white space
so I
sneaked
in a
rhyme
just a peek
one wee
time
and
blossoms
came
and I
knew I had
to keep on
going
poetizing
and keep
on looking
at the world
through
realizing
eyes
rhyme
or no
rhyme

Donna JT Smith, 4-19-2013

I am still unpacking where we have moved - having moved more things (too many more) from Maine to Pennsylvania on my return trip.  Ginger's here, too, again.  I think she misses the big runs she could have with her friend, Spicy.  Our lot is small and public...so no more going out in a nightgown with messy hair (me not the dog), and she has to be on a leash...and I'm not running full tilt around the house five times with her.  Lots of changes.

Waiting

I think I'm hungry,

want to go out;

I'm waiting and waiting

with doggy-ish pout.

Why do you dress up?

Why brush your hair,

when you know that I need

to get out for fresh air?

City living's exciting,

small dogs call it grand;

But somedays I miss

running free on the land,

and standing stock still

as a coyote howls

or listening nights to

the hooting of owls.

The deer and the turkeys

dwelt in our hood

I barked at them all

as loud as I could.

I miss all the smells

of the geese in the flats

and the porch nesting phoebes

who tormented the cat.

In the city we have

rabbits, squirrels and skunks

all of them acting like

rodentia punks -

though we all know a skunk

is a Mephitidae

still a skunk is a punk

and I'm sorry to say

I got up too close to the

the tail end of one,

and man, that thing stunk 

like a son of a gun!

I promise to never 

sniff skunks again.

So if you would hurry

just tell me when -

for I'm ready to leave

 and sniff only ants,

on my way to the yard

to water the plants.

by Donna JT Smith, 8/16/2019

Enjoy more poetry today by following the links on Wondering and Wandering, by Christie Wyman, our Poetry Friday host today.

Climbing

Climbing

Once I was young

And free of most cares

Now that I’m older

I find that the stairs

Are higher and steeper

Than any I’ve known

But still I look back

On the garden I’ve sown

Everything’s good

Though perfection it’s not

Yet there is a story

Back there with a plot

It’s taken me here

To the next thrilling act

The cliffhanger page where

You’re missing some fact

So I lift my right foot

Then likewise my left

I drag myself up

Till I rest in the cleft

Yes the steps are much harder

The higher you climb

But the view from the top

Will be something sublime.

By Donna JT Smith 8/4/2019

My Children

Back 30 years ago, I drew these two portraits of my children from memory...not a copy of a photo.  I found them in our move.  Sometimes you just have to make some changes to find treasures you forgot you had.

Hannah, at age 5

Adam, at age 8

My grandchildren are these ages now.

Time,Treasures and Trains

When you thought you had it all
and you wanted time to stop
it didn't.
Thankfully it kept on going
to the next precious station.
Life, holding to
the track,
even when switching rails
treasures abounded
with more around
every corner
clutching your ticket
your journey
with twists, turns, jolts
and shifts
continued
to reveal treasures
Remember to
look, listen
and live
in each time,
for each treasure
on each train.

by Donna JT Smith, 8/2/2019

It may not be my best....it may be my fastest though!  I have to go get a van for moving more stuff this morning.  My train is barely slowing down today.
Hope I can get to read more posts tonight in a very empty house in Maine.
Here's how YOU can: visit Heidi Mordhorst at myjuicylittle universe for Poetry Friday!

Change

We are in the midst of some life-changing events lately.  And when you make big changes, you need to keep connections.  I kept coming back to connections in the middle of change....

Connectedness keeps you grounded.  When spaces change, people change and conditions change, you need to rely on the good connections you have established to keep you grounded yet moving forward.  That is my life now.  

I thank an unchanging God for the change to my life He brought, and for giving me all the connections we have established to draw on in daily life and in misty memories.  And that is all I can say. 

I started this poem yesterday when I was contemplating our move and its many complications, and the connections to the past it is evoking and enabling as we go through the changes.  It's all just a part of a whole picture unfinished, a leg of a journey you are still walking, a chapter yet to be read, a dot-to-dot to be colored in.

Change

Pieces and parts

Layered together

Haggard heart tugging

A silvery tether

Shimmery pearls slide 

    Memories glide

Between each gem

    Years cushioning them

Seeds of next time

Yet someday to bloom

Reside in the new

Dispelling of gloom

A placement in time

   A trace of divine

We stretch our toes

   Where our heart goes

Up then down

Side to side

A grand new maze

Where lives collide

Seeming the same

   Renewing the game

Hope swells content

   With all minutes spent

In brilliant puzzle

Corners are pieced

Outer edges aligned

The picture released 

Still filling the inner

   Choices grow thinner

Uncharted the smiles

   In upcoming miles

 

Sweet story the middle

Seen from the edges

With golden the morning

Green growing the hedges

All is quite well

   Wherein we now dwell

Always September

   Remaining remembered.

by Donna JT Smith 8/1/2019

It was good to be able to write again.  It's been sporadic lately.  This morning I am sitting on our stairs...no chairs in the kitchen or living room now.  I should have written here before...maybe with a pillow though.  This poem is giving me food for thought...I feel another poem in there somewhere.  Maybe after breakfast?

Connect with more fellow writers for Spiritual Journey First Thursday at Margaret Simon's Reflections on the Teche today.

The Ocean's Hunger

Thank you for visiting today.  I make it to as many Poetry Friday's as I can.  Lately it has become difficult to pop in.  But I am making an effort this evening (Thursday) to prepare a post for Friday.  I am in Maine and working with a number of fantastic people to help me prepare our Maine home for sale.  Never fear, we are keeping the home we are renovating elsewhere in Maine - but are selling our log home on an island on the coast.  So much to sort and move.

Some pictures in case you know a buyer!  Lol...kinda...lol!

I don't remember where this thought came from, but in cleaning out things, I came across a notebook with bits and pieces of an unfinished poem, and I put it together into this now finished poem.  I am including my ocean watercolor, started, but not finished, of Hatchet Cove in Maine, where our home we are renovating is located.  For now we will be elsewhere.  I will finish it when we get back.

Ocean's Hunger

The hungry mouths of waves begin

to gnash and gnaw, the sand pulled in;

Earth doesn't struggle with the tides

Though back and forth the grains collide.

They gurgle, rush in ocean's throat 

As salty stew stirs them to float;

Away the grains are drawn to sink

To shift, to shape, to form new brink;

My settling heels record the debt   

And we are left to marvel yet

How all the world is set in motion

Through faithful tides of famished ocean,

How edges of our world collapse,

Bits carried far away perhaps

To surface once again all cleansed,

A seascape through some other lens,

Sating still a mind and soul

With crumbs of shore the ocean stole.

by Donna JT Smith, 2019

Visit Mary Lee Hahn at A Year of Reading today to see other poets' and poetry lovers' postings!

Hallelujah

Have a wonderful Sunday.

I want to learn to play this song...seems easy enough with lots of goodness in it.

Spiritual Journey First Thursday - Spring

We are joining Carol Varsalona for a springtime Spiritual Journey first Thursday today for thoughts about the topic Spirit of Spring  paying homage to the earth and the Lord for creating it. 

Seriously, I have been so busy lately that today's post is being done in a rush.  And I don't feel like it should be rushed.  No one should rush spring!

Spring is the setting up of the maturity of summer.  If you don't plant in spring, what harvest will there be?

So though I like to sit back and enjoy the warmer days and the hidden gifts beneath the dead leaves, there are also things to do before it is over and summer sets in.  Summer is the time to enjoy the fullness.  Fall is the time to harvest for Winter.  But Spring is the awakening again, and the start of...eeesh...getting ready for Winter, really.  Don't rush Spring.  Pay attention to it.  Nurture it.  Feed it.  So Summer will gladly arrive and you can THEN watch it unfold into what you set it up to be.

Wow. 

I'm doing that.  In my own life, I am well past Spring.  I like to think I'm in Summer...but I know parts of me are feeling the Fall coming on.  When I was in Spring, I set myself up for my Fall years.  I know there's a Winter coming.  But as long as I can, I am going to nurture my little Springs, be there for my Summers even as I enter Fall.  And when Winter comes, the Springs will be all ready to mature into the Summers we hope they will be.

You know what was so much fun this morning, just before writing this?  I was sitting with my newly five year old granddaughter as she put her magical fairy garden together on the dining room table, and she was humming and whispery singing, "Endless summer I can see for miles, fun, fun, fun and the whole world smiles..." 

Spring.  Thank you, God.  I will nurture Spring while it is here.  I'm not Winter yet.