A Chant For Gregory

Her faded floral dress
clung to a gaunt and sinued frame
as the wind molded it
to a hard edged body
no fat no curves
just age and hardship
molded angularity
Arms outstretched
holding wet flannel shirts
A mouth full of clothes pins
Coaxing heavy material
on to the swaying line.
His clothes...washed every second day
Iron gray hair blowing
across her chiseled face
Her eyes china blue
in laughing counterpoint
to the drab garments around her
She stood out on the hill
the line positioned there
to catch the breeze
The house sheltered
in the pines gave
no access to the wind
A blessing in winter
but warm in summer
The hilltop a summer
screened roofed platform
used for "living rough"
She loved it there
during sunny windy days
quiet soft nights.
Her bed and an old rocker
all that was needed.
Meals, she had lost her
girlish appetite for food and
other passions many years before
were prepared below
as was the washing
carried in baskets
to her summer "place"
The days were predictable
As years blended into decades
She waited and washed his work clothes
A joy in summer a challenge in winter
A rhyme and rhythm of
Simple faith chanted calmly
Until his return or her leaving
They would be reunited...
Her heart told her so




Poetry by josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 831 times
Written on 2012-05-08 at 12:19

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Blilith
Awesome. I cannot find any other words.
Applaud
and
book marked.
2013-06-10


ngaio Beck
Picturesque,a portrait.Language at its' zenith.
2013-05-24


StillHoppin The PoetBay support member heart!
Your description here is perfection in words. I can picture her, going about her task, right down to the threads on her garment. Very nice.
2013-04-13



Joe, the imagery is vivid and ethereal, and it reads like a treasured memory, and perhaps a comprehension which comes with age and wisdom, both a memory and an understanding that has come to you over time.
2012-05-08


countryfog
Simply, in its best sense, beautiful. So deft a touch I see it as a painting, pastels and earth-tones, soft brushstrokes almost translucent, shapes and shades feathering seamlessly one into another so that you see the scene wholly and all at once, the wash shimmering on the line that holds it all together. Vivid memories of my grandmother, for which much thanks.
2012-05-08


ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
A great poem/story , Josephus I look , I see men and woman of age. I smile , I know they were once young. Of what they recall , when some still in their younger age. Those of age are thinking '' I remember when..... ''
Ken
2012-05-08