photo by shf

There are things only a crone knows.

There are prayers only she speaks and medicine only she dispenses.

Hers has been a life of dashed hopes and unnecessary worries and inflated egos and violent injustice that still grasps for a safer and saner and kinder world.

Her arms are wide…

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painting by PJF (1931–2022)

painter of lace and aprons,

of lemons and geese

index finger curled at the edge of her smirk

arrogant aura, part Crawford, part Davis

face parked at the intersection of Amusement and Surprise

pulled out of the South by her own bootstraps

and not without a family’s lashing

kept house…

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photo by shf

I stand on uneven ground

scattered with frosted leaves at dawn.

Sky stretches in gradients of gray

and the clarity of sunrise is hidden.

Magpies congregate,

their yellow beaks cheerful flashes

in the mute of morning.

I step onto the path, dog tails wagging alongside,

and thank the breath and…

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