Hi Megan, I have been meaning to say hi and welcome to Substack, not many of us professed poets here. Good to have your company as a fellow wordsmith.
Yes, we stand “saw in hand” along with your harrowing Mother’s tale and Tess’s poem.
"Love, love, a lily's my care,
She's sweeter than a tree.
Loving, I use the air
Most lovingly: I breathe;
Mad in the wind I wear
Myself as I should be,
All's even with the odd,
My brother the vine is glad."
Now what in your words summoned that out of me? I can still recite it after all these slip-sliding away years and tears (rhymes with bears) in the tent of time.
Know the poet? Hint: his shortened first name rhymes with dead. I used to carry his collected poems to the pub in Hamilton, Ontario, circa 1967 to accompany my loneliness while dodging the cold drafts.
And while I have your saw in my hand, here is one of the forests in one of the trees from my “The Husbanding of a Life” collection of poems that began with the death of my Other Half, Dec 17, 1996:
I love that Roethke's poem is still with you. That's what I love about memorizing poetry--it just floats up when we need it. Today, for me, it was Elizabeth Bishop's "One Art."
And thank you for sharing your poem. I especially love those first three lines.
I love everything about this, Megan! The idea that acting or not acting are both choices is interesting and one I haven't thought about in 30 years of parenting. Thank you for expanding my perspective today.
We're never too old, right? I love that Tess Gallagher's poem is so short and yet so immense. Whenever I have a choice, I picture myself standing, "saw in hand."
Hi Megan, I have been meaning to say hi and welcome to Substack, not many of us professed poets here. Good to have your company as a fellow wordsmith.
Yes, we stand “saw in hand” along with your harrowing Mother’s tale and Tess’s poem.
"Love, love, a lily's my care,
She's sweeter than a tree.
Loving, I use the air
Most lovingly: I breathe;
Mad in the wind I wear
Myself as I should be,
All's even with the odd,
My brother the vine is glad."
Now what in your words summoned that out of me? I can still recite it after all these slip-sliding away years and tears (rhymes with bears) in the tent of time.
Know the poet? Hint: his shortened first name rhymes with dead. I used to carry his collected poems to the pub in Hamilton, Ontario, circa 1967 to accompany my loneliness while dodging the cold drafts.
And while I have your saw in my hand, here is one of the forests in one of the trees from my “The Husbanding of a Life” collection of poems that began with the death of my Other Half, Dec 17, 1996:
“My darling it is true,
You cured myself of me
And I cured you of you.
From death's ground we grew.
Bound freely to trust,
Love, we came to care.
What matters is the mind we shared.
As long as truth could tell,
The god we gathered was us.
Our tree stands for the good of all.
We understood and lived the Fall.”
Looking forward to reading you.
Stay free then safe.
I love that Roethke's poem is still with you. That's what I love about memorizing poetry--it just floats up when we need it. Today, for me, it was Elizabeth Bishop's "One Art."
And thank you for sharing your poem. I especially love those first three lines.
I love everything about this, Megan! The idea that acting or not acting are both choices is interesting and one I haven't thought about in 30 years of parenting. Thank you for expanding my perspective today.
We're never too old, right? I love that Tess Gallagher's poem is so short and yet so immense. Whenever I have a choice, I picture myself standing, "saw in hand."