JC thanks The Wellington Times for bringing her seasonal, prose poem, “Evergreen” to readers in Prince Edward County.
“For everyone who does not receive the print version of this weekly paper, here is the poem. I hope you enjoy it. Happy holidays to one and all.”
Evergreen
I unwrap the witch on her broomstick—a merry witch with red hat, plaid dress and a smile befitting a Christmas tree. I bought her at a shoppe filled with holiday fare in a small town on the way to Maine one July.
The hefty, ceramic angel in a tutu smiles from a nearby branch where a felted gnome in blue and white hangs below a pewter moose. The tin star from Mexico, each point a primary colour, reigns again after languishing in pieces until madcap glue reunited its halves.
I had not thought I’d have a real Christmas fir again. Holidays took us away from home to be with our children. With little joy, I divided decorations between them for their own trees, bid farewell in my mind as I saw how each ornament suited its new site.
Favourites I placed one-by-one in a box with compartments for bells, bears, birds, glass balls, figurines, snowflakes, and silvered spiderwebs.Just in case I should be lucky enough to have a real tree one more time.
I’m looking at our Balsam now. The story of each decoration returns to me as grandchildren find a perfect place on low branches for those not breakable. The younger boy I trust with tiny orbs in emerald. He keeps asking for one more.
When later I approach with fragile pieces for higher up, I see he has clustered the balls like grapes on one bough. He grins at me, says they are friends, like brothers, then crashes into his older sibling when my back is turned, their moment of harmony past.
A poem to deflect COVID blues
Yes, it finally snuck into my life. In spite of my diligence for almost 3 years in wearing a mask and gloves in any indoor public space and handwashing/sanitizing until my hands felt raw, the current incarnation of the virus hit me like a fully-loaded truck.
I am grateful to have access to anti-viral medication which I hope will cut the severity of the disease. But getting COVID causes me to observe this: Often, I was the only person masked indoors, the consequences of which are plain for everyone to see. ERs are overloaded as more as more people become very ill.
The lack of concern about how one person’s health can impact on others, particularly those most at risk– the vulnerable very young and the elderly — dominates herd thinking now. That’s more than a shame as it entails big time costs to society and each taxpayer.
Caring about the health of others needs to come back into fashion. Perhaps an influencer can help make that happen.
Here’s a piece from my collection with the working title REAPER, which contains short poems using words drawn from obituary notices and articles in the Toronto Globe and Mail. I hope to find a publisher for it in 2024. I write found poetry under my pseudonym, A. Garnett Weiss.
Best wishes to all for a healthy, happy 2024 and for healing for the world.
Masks
Satisfaction, a familiar face
come alive to teach containment,
relief and hope to the most animated,
although sometimes
at a price.
Sources: Words or phrases drawn unaltered from death notices and obituary articles published in the April 15, 2017 Toronto Globe and Mail.
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