Globe Trotting (WC)

 

(June 23, 2021, Saint John's Eve, feast day of the above Meeting of the Vladimir Icon of the Mother of God, the Pskov Caves Tenderness Icon of the Mother of God, Saint Etheldreda (Audrey) of Northumbria, Blessed Frances Martel, and Blessed Mary of Oignies. Image from here.)

Globe Trotting

A friend of ours has been everywhere. Somewhat
literally. Past senator, published author, world
traveler. Hard to name a place he hasn't seen.

Our Joseph here's not traveled much, as such. 

Instead roamed where he liked, through his 

work. Northwest waters. Appalachia. Alaskan Outback. 

When said two got in conversation, I their witness, eyes

opened. Our friend spoke of times and places, meant the 

most. Turns out Joseph had been there too, even same folk 

listed he knew. Globetrotting, poor man's style, 

workaday to

      bring a smile, 

              even here–-

                        even you,

                                   even now.

*From prompt: freewrite as inspired by Richard M. Berlin's A Lobsterman Looks at the Sea; from Lisa Freedman's Breathe/Read/Write, June 18, 2021.

Brings to Mind (WC)

(June 23, 2021, Saint John's Eve, feast day of the above Pskov Caves Tenderness Icon of the Mother of God, the Meeting of the Vladimir Icon of the Mother of God, Saint Etheldreda (Audrey) of Northumbria, Blessed Frances Martel, and Blessed Mary of Oignies. Image from here.)

Brings to Mind

So we met on the Greyhound, that summer I was Canada bound. 

Native elder, he felt to be, just staring peacefully. That is until we 

got to talking, of selkies and snow bears and baby moccasins. 

It brings to mind that: process, it is kind.

That summer letters long and flying. Till back home it's in person, 

Thanksgiving. Joseph brings the bread and the bubbly, figs and 

dates. I bring exhaustion from all the prepping, no justice to his

shlepping. But in the end the funniest thing, heart it starts to sing. 

It brings to mind that: process, it is kind.

It's not that we lived closeby, he in Washington, I in Oregon. 

When I met an accident he zoomed across that state line. Just in 

time. Wasn't breezy, this caregiving. He assures me of his forgiving. 

It brings to mind that: process, it is kind. 

Inevitably, the merger. In our tiny home we linger, riverside. It's

four blocks long, this town. Days where fusses yet treasures 

abound. And it brings to mind that: 

                                                  process,

                                                           it is kind.

*From prompt: freewrite as inspired by Dilruba Ahmed's The Process; from Lisa Freedman's Breathe/Read/Write, June 18, 2021.

To Last a Lifetime (JM)

(Joseph MacRae, published in Writers At Play Presents: Our Legacy, edited by Daisy Barrett-Nash, Equal Arts, 2022. From June 9, 2021)

To Last a Lifetime 

A hammer, 

     a handsaw,

         a measuring tape.
Frame a pile of lumber.
Measure your boards.
Now here's a tool
to last you a lifetime.

Cut to size,
lay them out.
Nail them together.
Now here's a tool
to last you a lifetime.

Such simple things
can build a house,
can build a home.
Now here's a tool
to last you a lifetime.



*From prompt: freewrite about advice you want to pass on, then highlight a line for refrain, highlight other parts like, and form into a bop poem; Daisy Barrett-Nash's Legacy Poetry, June 9, 2021.