THE WOMAN NEXT DOOR


10 sept 2011   >   14/5   <     Art/Alchemy/Hierophant

 

What if you do it scared?

What if… the impossible is possible?

Can you sit quietly with a perplexing question and allow the answer to come to you?

 

RAIn… and more rain.  And then some rain.  Did I tell you it was raining?  The day rises with the patter of the rain.  Tho’ I know it’s water logging people, I find the sound of it relaxing, comforting when it’s not performing a thunderstorm drama.   Which I can like too, and that’s a whole different kinda feeling from this early a.m. tapping on my roof.   This poem is about my first neighborly introduction…

 

~~~~   ***   ~~~~   ***    ~~~~    ***    ~~~~

 

Long, thin, old woman

her angles bend to see

the passing leaves that

her feet make wake in

 

A line, invisible stops her

a pivot returns her to another

invisible line,  she stops,

she pivots her repeat 

 

Head bent in the wake 

of her slow shuffle 

My hello unfolds her reverie

She greets my eyes

 

A dim light shines 

in the cloud of brown iris

A strip of smile shows yellow

worn of decades lived

 

A neighborly introduction

her palms of satin silk

caress my welcome hand

her eyes search my face

 

“I love you”, she says

Her words spill over me

in her satin gloss with

empty eyes searching

 

I thank her, squeeze the 

silk soft of her ancient hand

She pivots her way to the house

next door with the invisible line

 

 

 

1 Comment

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One response to “THE WOMAN NEXT DOOR

  1. mamma

    I hear her singing softly outside my window
    an unrecognizable hymn, she must not have her teeth in
    I peek and see her out there in her black dress and white hose
    wool hat pulled over her natty gray hair
    Thin as a rail, holding her plastic grocery bag
    picking up leaves in her yard one by one
    She looks over at my yard and shakes her head
    Something catches her eye and she grabs her broom
    swatting at the eaves as her voice crackles
    “Git out… this is my house… my house”
    I go back to my day until my eye
    catches her out the window again
    this time in my yard sweeping leaves well onto my grass
    in a little pile, no invisible line there
    Do I answer her plea to go rake?
    Nah

    Like

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