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“The Hill” ~ Morristown, NJ

I grew up in a place
maybe not unlike yours

Traveled roads
probably a lot like most

It was heaven
with imitation hardwood linoleum

It was three eternities in church service
( during August, with just one fan)

It was sanctuary
with angsty hallways

It was chicken on Sunday
spaghetti on Wednesdays

It was a bubble
in a melting pot

It was trouble
if you wanted it

It was safety
in numbers

It was comradery
in show tunes

It was neighbors who minded
your manners and your business

It was frenemies who feuded
yet fed your family

It was fine not to like
inexcusable not to love

It wasn’t perfect
yet

It always tried
It never failed

2014-Rene

For #WhereILivedWednesday

Head over to Ann’s blog on the last Wednesday of every month for the Where I Lived Wednesday linkup!

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ol ‘ man

The Mill, 1964, by Andrew Wyeth 

people speak
of winter
as if it were
an uninvited guest
asleep on
the couch

though he is wont
to lazing about
i do not mind his
company
the cats make
sport of his snoring

he yawns
scratches and
blusters
i make tea
and pour over
seed catalogs

the birds
chirp through
a flurry of braggadocio
they know
a swan song
when they hear one

© 2014-Rene

For Magpie Tales

missing glory

photo by Elena Kalis via Magpie Tales
she was light and magic, springtime laughter woven through her hair
i found her world cluttered and noisy, a place where logic frowns
ambushed, my heart leapt when i heard a bird call, her breath of life

she was a singer of hymns, a joyful, patient sentinel
i was a snare drum, ready to snap at the skip of a beat
i now find myself leeching to the choir, waiting on her voice

she was my cloudship, an ocean, a free spirited ticket to ride
i gnawed away at my tether, she became my new life line
i hold, needing like a child, the loose end of her crimson thread

Rene ~ 2013

alma

Image via Magpie Tales

Alma
she, the practical godmother 

of re purposed filled lives

did so, not out of
fad or fashion
or deep cosmic guilt

but rather frugality
borne out of
horse drawn necessity

with Alma
one was never allowed
to simply “be”

a spoon could not
just stir
a kettle had to do more than
just boil

one trick extravagances
had no business
in her business

for Alma
“just doing your bit”
was an unforgivable sin
and a grotesque waste
of limitless talent

she eschewed
the flock trotted superhighway
and blazed her own way
in inventive fashion

the future
sewn and soldered 
formed from 
whatever she had on hand
waiting to be reborn
and twisted 
drifting from the past

Rene ~ July 2013