Sunday, May 29, 2011

After the longest summer

wet leaves scatter
we breath again

I try to steal
my younger neighbour's energy

Thursday, May 12, 2011

Dining out without din

We go to a delicious lunch at the Zen where the music is soft, the decor is gentle and we are remembered.  I think there should be special meals for under six and over eighty so we could feel less guilty about leaving the extras.  Not having to plan seems almost as important as not cooking after all these years.  The first cake I baked was eighty years ago when I had learned to sound out words and my mother was called to the store:  I puzzled out the recipe put it together and put the pan into the hot oven.  When mother came back she was horrified but I was neither burnt nor unhappy--trouble was I soon was given kitchen jobs and  am now finding myself rather bored with the whole process.  Tonight I'll have shushi for dinner having lost all hesitance about asking for a box.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

To be very old

In old age there are two fears:  Loss of the memory and becoming so self-centred that one forgets the outside world.  The weakened body makes demands, demands for attention, demands of pain, demands from those around.  One must find ways of looking outward to the worlds of other--So I greet others who bring their worlds to me.

Crone's poems: Crone's poems: Temporary resting place