Tuesday, October 17, 2017

dimension

movements
aching, hopeful memory
challenged 

See?

grey, dark, light

noticed?
stretching, shrinking
belief, story informing
movement
bright memories 
distorted transported
from loves secure 
knowlege

gkn Oct.2017

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Talking Stones

.

stories celebration 
villages, families 
pain echoing 
displacement.

I am alive in this place
 old newness, 
 familiarity
these observant feet  
walking,
 all space 
all time
exist 
around
wiithin.


gkn Sept. 2017

Sunday, September 24, 2017

Reflections

I am at Whitby by the Sea, that iconic English town that I am so familiar with, from art and story.  I walk through the crowds of families, multi generational, of women ( few flowing dresses or colourful umbrellas on this September day), of men chatting while waiting for shoppers.  I see many mothers and daughters, I wish to share this adventure with mine. 

Our travelling companion/tour guide, Heather meets her sister, after treating us to a fabulous lunch.  I have kippers, they are caught and then smoked in the hill under the Abbey stairs.  Today is a day for trying new things,
smoked fish is a favourite of mine, and kippers were indeed enjoyed!  

The desserts ah, the desserts, new Bristish delights, so many cakes, so little time. One hundred and ninety nine stairs to the Abbey justify, perhaps, trying three.  Custard and plum crisp win the favourite on this tasting opportunity. 

Liw, Susan and I head off to the Abbey.   The stairs are old, many feet have gone this way. The Abbey, which overlooks those famous Whitby beach scenes, dates back to a monastery in the seventh century.

I wander alone and in the company of others, beloved ones and strangers, reflecting.  I want to remember it all, the history, the beauty, the energy.  I snap photo after photo, seeking light, reflected, reflecting.

The time comes to return from the Abbey, to meet Heather again.  We walk down.  The beach is gone , the ocean has returned to the shore.  There are rose gardens at this landing, I go to explore and I see more gardens, beauty. 

To my left another garden calls, it has a sign. 
I go.
I read, 

Dementia Awareness Garden. 


gkn September 2017
 

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Pity

Brymor ice cream from the farm shop.

Thirty flavour choices
    clotted cream, only in England
.....
pity

Today's Yorkshire delight.

gkn Sept. 2017

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Saturday

The farmer's market,
in this town, home for nine filled years, 
of birth and death,  

was acquaintance, even friend
filled ,  this summer day
without children.

A quiet tension fills

a life

I notice is my own
to
claim, 

gardening,
writing, cooking,
swimming,  camping, 
biking, hiking 

l alone

or

shared by 
large or 
small

 owls hoot, woodpeckers tap, 
angel calls, coyotes howl, dragonflies, 

mosquito bites

my life .

gkn Aug.2017

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Blessed Two


 
Teeth brushed,  stories read       four tonight,
he chose them all, 
songs sung,
hugs given
good night said.

Cherub face response
“good night gg.’


“I need water, gg”
            I forgot to fill his water bottle.
 I fill the water bottle,

Cherub face,
“thank you gg.”

“gg,  Gg”
“my water bottle doesn’t work”

             I retrieve the faulty water bottle,
suck it does not work,

“see gg, you did it wrong,”

I unscrew the top,  afix the straw,
it works now,

 I say gently,
“good night sweetheart,”

cherub face, 
“close the door gg”

I close the door carefully. 

“gg,”
 I hear GG
I wait,
“ GG, GG, GGGG,”
 “my water bottle is leaking”

slow steps carry me to the door,

“gg my water bottle is leaking.” 

His pillow is wet, his pajamas are wet,

“maybe you can put it on right this time.”

I change his pajamas,  I change the pillow,

I put the lid on right.

“Good night darling,” comes out of my mouth,

 I look
at grinning cherub face.

“I love you  gg.”



I do not bang the door or shout.



gkn July 2017

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

This Morning


Pink roses, long mauve stems of hostas' in
bloom wave a gentle good morning
as the lavender's brightness

 shouts.

 chickadees, robins, jays,  cardinals,
and the many sparrows,

we called them all sparrows,
 in my childhood, or starlings,
I don't see or hear many of them anymore,

call to me,

echoes of children,
riding bicycle,  squabbling,
toddlers giggling,
 as they
remind
me to play.



gkn July 2017