Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #60
gritty, fetid, filthy, faces, twilight, home,
broken, empty, cabbage, vow, streetcar, same
The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #252
itch, track, nights, spring, willing, mission,
bell, sense, lost, stand, pay, gloss
Poets United: Poetry Pantry #303
At first it was just an unreachable itch
this mission to understand how she’d lost
home. An empty sense of difference, never
knowing why she couldn’t be treated
the same as her siblings. She was broken.
Following gritty tracks of memory through
innumerable nights, willing herself to stand
firm, vowing to not give up until the face
of truth was found and would ring its clear
streetcar bell of reality for all to hear.
Then, on a spring day, realized she’d almost
reached the twilight years of her life. Had
paid far too a high a price mucking over filthy
past and its fetid smell of a cabbage patch
left too long after picking. Vowed instead,
to seek the gloss of each new moment, breathe
in its freshness, and know peace in that hard
Elizabeth Crawford 5/22/16
Notes: Distantly biographical. Once lived about a mile and a half from Franksville, WI, manufacturer of Frank’s Sauerkraut. For a day or two, every fall, it was best to close all windows, turn up the air conditioner, and let the wind and rain disperse the smell of over ripe cabbage from the miles of farmland that surrounded us. Was living there when I found poetry, its inherent truth and its seemingly magical healing powers.
Image is a photo taken at the Botanical Gardens in Green Bay.