I thought I understood a lot of life.
I figured others valued truth and fair
attempts to win. I witnessed acts of strife,
assuming bad in character was rare.
I bent some silly rules without a care,
but I expected morals to endure.
I didn’t dream the breakage many dare.
Of late the chaos grows, and there’s no cure.
(Huitain)
I sometimes drank too much when I was young.
A social 20-something in a bar,
I wasn’t home alone. I drank among
acquaintances and friends. I took in far
too much because I lost all appetite
for food. I pushed the plate and bowl away –
then passed a semi-sleepless, dizzy night,
and felt the bad effects for half a day.
I aged. At 41 the ache would last
two days. So overdrink moved to my past.
With food I felt disorder longer still.
I overate at home, unseen, alone.
And though my bingeing often made me ill,
I bore that consequence (I should have known).
I’m old now, and I rarely overdo
the carbohydrates or the calories.
But every now and then, when stressed or blue,
I mindless eat, relapsing to disease.
Alas – now bloat and gas extend for days.
I learn to be aware. I weigh my ways.
Already living with uncertainty
beyond the usual organic span,
with virus plaguing us and frequently
provoking changing rules about what can
be done in company, so every plan
is tentative … And now Mom’s health is skewed.
I try for flexible. She gets a scan,
while I equip my shelves with extra food.
(Huitain)
Customary June –
twenty-four degrees between
their valley our bay
We’re seeing Mom at least three times a week
of late. We seem adjusted to the new
routine. Except it changes. Symptoms peak
and some subside. Acute and chronic flip.
Another hospital, a new technique –
but overall her system’s in decline.
We’re not expecting much. Our tears don’t leak
to mourn a life so long and loving too.
No pain or fearfulness are what we seek.
(Magic 9)
The real estate is sold. The plague abates.
It feels like time to take on other tasks.
A visit’s overdue – my clan awaits –
and though they’re still requiring the masks
on planes, this week I’ll be selecting dates
to fly, responding to beloved asks.
It’s 18 months since I’ve embraced their forms;
I’ll venture soon to travel through new norms.
(Ottava Rima)
My lower back is bothersome today.
It’s acting fragile. It wants gentle use.
The pill I swallowed didn’t take away
the symptom, and recall did not occur
until I walked a bit and felt it say
I almost tripped a day ago. No fall
befell – avoiding that, I stepped astray,
and now I understand my own abuse.
I need to heed this body, and obey.
(Magic 9)
By transit home today, I’m feeling irked.
It’s taking too much time and drags a mood
already low, a spirit overworked,
to heavy slog and whine. My attitude
is tentative. I’m hungry. I need food
for mouth and mind and anything but grief.
Arriving with an itch for solitude,
I take in avocado with relief.
(Huitain)
She fell again, and so she has to stay
downstairs, although for home she’s filled with yen.
They planned to help her move today, but hey:
she fell again.
She doesn’t bless and never says amen.
We haven’t known our mom to kneel or pray.
But she complains a lot, and whines for when
the docs and staff give moving their OK.
She says she won’t approach herself till then,
but she mis-gauged the seat and found dismay:
she fell again.
(Roundel)
Inhabiting this cottage 14 years,
I haven’t changed its footprint, outer walls
or roofline, but the rest of it appears
improved since I established residence.
The latest demolition (new frontiers)
removes bamboo and ivy to expose
a heap of lava rock, a pipe that rears
above the fence. We saw until it falls,
and start six succulents, like volunteers.
(Magic 9)
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