One bag of six to twelve months age baby girl clothing.
Special occasion dresses, good enough
to pass along.
If you are looking for those work-a-day wear items,
they will not be here.
Those onesies with first meals smeared
along the cuffs and collars,
stretched out sleepers,
pants wearing at the knees from first bouts of crawling.
Those are tucked away in a little box.
The one I have allowed myself
filled with the small trinkets collected
here and there to remind me. If I have tears
in my eyes when I hand them over, pay no mind.
It’s not you,
I just had to go through them.
Like they were calling me from the basement,
reminding me I would not be needing them again.
No sense in them moldering away.
This month, April, being poetry month we are working on our words. *last year we did weekly poetry projects*
Using an exercise from Frances Mayes, The Discovery of Poetry: A Field Guide to Reading and Writing Poetry (found via this post) we flipped through dictionaries and wrote down words that caught our eye. Eldest son and I work on our writing several times a week together and so changing things up was fun. The Dictionary of Etymology was an eye opening experience for him. Words change?!
him: annul commoner phonic perpetual lander junk henchman historian grackle dishonesty compete cinch annul
me: kinetic pinion locquacious bramble dobbin hush ibex hyphen mollify yelp dregs frowzy praxis tabulate syrup talon hooligan warble drought laud
p.s. this morning we awoke to snow. king winter will not rest quite yet.
what is behind us and what is before us
permanent residency, we have landed
the marker of 11 years touches a nerve
that 10 left unfrayed
a calm belonging
finding a safe inlet
the subtle collecting of others castoffs
fabric scraps, half used skeins of yarn. the curating
of crap. a wrapping
myself in others histories
the sailing in to the future
filling bags to pass
the birth of this baby has pushed the reset button