Old #poems #amwriting #amrevising #amlooking

While I was looking for another piece of writing tonight, I found a poem I wrote about my grandmother a long time ago. I sort of liked it. I revised it a little and liked it even more. Here it is, along with the photo that inspired it:grandma

A Surprising Photograph of Grace Milvada Caroline Matilda Robison

She told stories:

The Linotype was a dangerous

Machine. If you weren’t careful,

It would take your arm at the elbow,

A little careless daydreaming;

She was pulled from the sixth grade

When influenza took her mother;

She had wanted to be a teacher

But never returned to school;

Her husband almost killed a bull

After it chased her across the pen;

The bull smelled his anger,

Stayed away till dark;

During a draught, it rained

Directly on their garden,

But left the house dry;

Ball lightning burst though the door,

Bounced through the kitchen

Before disappearing.

She thought mostly of going home,

Dropped twenty cents into a coin purse

And walked away in her nightgown,

A ghost inching down the road.

I have a photo of my grandmother

Standing atop the radiator of a Ford

In a bathing suit and swimming

Cap. It is a cracked, out-of-focus,

Yellow with age,

Her most crystalline surviving

Testament. The light surrounds her.

She is there, windmilling

Her arms to maintain balance

While the photographer says,

“One more second, I’ve almost got it!

Stay right where you are!”

Wheelbarrow, in repose…

Our backyard we have the remnants of a large barn foundation. You can see the fieldstone in the distance. The tires are part of a wide variety of buried items in the yard. It appears that the barn simply fell on top of whatever was inside. We are always discovering new things. The wheelbarrow gets a lot of use. It needed a rest.