small poems, late autumn 2023

 In late October I felt inspired by Ross Gay’s essay collection, “The Book of (More) Delights,” to keep a record of moments in the day that brought me a sense of happiness, or even just a sense of ease, no matter how small, no matter how fleeting. I did this for 6 weeks, using a 6-line format.


the moment i remember something
i was struggling to remember
since yesterday —
this is the first
delight of
today

==

5:15 in the morning
waking from a dream
with two words in my head:
“catching waves”
i don’t know what that means
but i have a good feeling about it

==

they are only 23 years old
dad with a cigar in his mouth
my beautiful mother with her light-up-the-world smile
i was just a few months
but somehow i’m already 72 and
seeing this photograph for the very first time

==

this morning
when my brain began to spin
i told it to just STOP —
and i went off
to play
with paper, scissors, glue

==

yesterday at the library book sale
seeing so many books i once read
and enjoyed
i pat the spines, tenderly
with my fingertips —
“hello old friends”

==

walking through the park
birds birds
birds birds birds
i hear them
but i can’t see them —
i hope that they see me

==

three real letters
in the mailbox today
from three real friends
and there are still
a few red leaves left
on the tree outside the window

==

this rainy sunday
i can’t decide
which book to read
i don’t let myself
even look at
the chocolate-covered almonds

==

late in the afternoon
wrapped in
purple pashmina
thinking about everything
until i’m thinking about
nothing

==

early this morning
getting the water temperature
exactly right
a long shower —
the scent of grapefruit
and also just a hint of mint

==

wondering where i put it
that big bag stuffed
with balls of yarn
i look here, i look there —
eureka, found it!
now searching for my crochet hooks

==

decades ago
such a clever
halloween costume —
dressed all in black
i declared myself to be
a raisin

==

i thought
the CD player
was broken
but it turns out
all i had to do
was turn up the volume

==

alone
in a vast
empty space
the air so still
my ears
feel full


==

november calendar
30 small boxes
to fill in
there are already
20 things (20 things!!!)
i’m looking forward to

==

this old corduroy shirt
(plum-colored
with all its buttons intact)
still fits me perfectly —
so okay you bits and spits of snow
go right ahead and do your thing

==

i almost forgot
how good it feels
to pull
soft thick socks
over
autumn-chilled feet

==

gray pants
gray sweater, gray socks
gray sneakers
today i’m just
floating around
like a cloud

==

this morning
i woke up worried
about nothing (& everything)
but thirteen hours later
i can say the day turned out
to be just fine

==

in the dream
someone invites me to go see
a new play: “The Day of the Jackal” —
my friend assures me
that everyone says it’s the best thing ever
but i say No Thank You

==

this day
of kindness and compassion
and the gentle flow of conversation
and laughter
and a few tears too —
the way it goes between friends

==

sitting quietly
just that
nothing more
a pulsing sensation in my palms
reminding me that
i am alive
 
==

it’s an odd thing
but today i experienced
so many delights
i don’t know where to begin —
let me just dwell on the hugs
yes the hugs oh the hugs such beautiful hugs

==

this seems to be my time
to get to know old friends
in deeper ways
and to meet new people
who may one day
become old friends

==

the day started
with me reading
a poem about tomatoes
and then for lunch
i cut up cherry tomatoes
and they were much nicer than the bean sprouts

==

i said to myself:
“love more,
fear less”
then i said to myself:
“listen to
yourself!”

==

my bill comes to $15.96
i reach into my wallet
and pull out a twenty dollar bill &
3 quarters, 3 nickels, and 6 pennies
and i get $5 back —
a totally satisfying exchange

==

it happens quite often
when i’m wearing
purple
that people comment
(even strangers)
and they always seem to be delighted

==

in small print
on each one
of the new batteries
this message:
march, 2035 —
what optimism

==

a telephone visit with my sister
remembering people
from the old neighborhood
so many kooks
and also a few
angels

==

in the mailbox just now
tucked in among
7 requests for donations
a handwritten card
from a woman i greatly admire
with a quote from a favorite book

==

this extra hour of sleep
brought me a dream
where i was walking down the street
humming
and then all the people around me
started humming too

==

these shoes are ugly
very very very
ugly
but …
they are so comfortable to walk in so …
i’m keeping them

==

this morning’s crossword puzzle
contains the answer
to a question I asked myself yesterday
and even better:
one answer turns out to be
my name

==

sometimes
i’m disappointed
in myself
for not being
different than who i am…
and then i just have to laugh!

==

the way i laugh
when i talk
with my sister
is different from
the way i laugh
with anyone else

==

reading an article about memory
that i forgot to read
yesterday
but this morning
i remembered
so that’s alright

==

there’s a pin
i wanted to
fasten to my sweater
but i couldn’t position it just right —
i tried and tried and tried
and then i got it into place, perfectly

==

i could have missed it entirely
the early morning sky
so pink and luscious
what made me look out the window at that moment?
what other magic
have i been missing?

==

i wasn’t looking for anything
but the second i saw these gloves
i went WOWZA
they are warm and colorful and soft
and exactly right for this
late November day

==

a cardinal
joined me
on my morning walk
“i am here
i am here”
he sang

==

on the phone with my mother —
she mentions her new neighbor
Alexa —
as soon as she says that word
the little device in her apartment
starts talking to her

==

i woke up with butterflies in my stomach
so i went for a walk
and counted my steps
1 to 20 over and over and over
by the time i got back home
i was breathing more easily

==

looking out the window
a bit of snow on the rooftops
and not a crow in sight
but here comes a young man
bopping along
wearing a bright red hat

==

sometimes people tell me
they recognize me (from a distance)
by my walk
but i don’t always
recognize myself
when i look in the mirror










 

Things That Delight Us (re-visiting a list from 2012)

Things We Find Delightful: a collective (anonymous) list that was first written and published in 2012

I recently re-discovered this list from years ago.

It seems like a good time to share it again.

Suggestion: If you feel inclined, think about things that please you, that make you happy, that DELIGHT you. Create your own list, or write a poem, or draw a picture, or anything else ….

It is a good thing to remind ourselves of the simple pleasures of life.

==



uni-ball Signo Micro 207, my new favorite pen

hearing my sister's laugh over the phone, from the other side of the country

giving away half the clothes in my closet

re-reading books, fresh the second time around, due to my not-so-sharp memory

morning yoga on Mondays and Fridays, with dear friends and an inspired teacher

crocheting many big beautiful colorful afghan blankets

veggie/fruit smoothies for breakfast each day; no two exactly alike

a new hairstyle

discovering my library card is valid until 2050

fishing off the Farmers' Market dock

the Yule Log on channel 501

snow ho ho

getting married

sitting down to meditate in a field and seeing a dear old auntie as soon as I closed my eyes

handing in my resignation to an astonished boss

scaling a rope wall with 100 other muddy women during an obstacle race to benefit breast cancer research

stopping during a run to splash water on my face in a stream and being greeted by 2 frogs under a rock

my 6-year-old son snuggled on my lap, reading me a book for the first time

listening to one amazing/powerful/funny/sad/magical story after another on the night that the angels visited Zee’s Writing Studio

watching the blue moon rise over the Atlantic Ocean and noticing it was kind of pink

going up a hill to look for a lost hammer, and instead encountering a woodpecker who was . . . hammering

stopping by the hillside yard of my grandmother, completely on a whim, just as a rainbow appeared ahead of a summer shower and reached out in front of my car

making good and unexpected connections with people through cyberspace

successfully defending my doctoral course work

finally getting a breast reduction when absolutely no one in my life supported my decision

any moments without pain

seeing a cross-dressing version of Midsummer Night’s Dream
 
70-year-old Judy Collins, knocking it out of the park

walking hand in hand with my 3-year-old granddaughter, to see the chickens at the end of the road, where she did her little chicken dance before we turned back to go home

hanging my art show, then standing back and seeing all that I've actually accomplished

writing a truly good sentence

digging in the dirt and finding perfectly round spider eggs, rusted metal bottle caps, and buried nuts the squirrels forgot

a big dish of black cherry ice cream

onions frying: a smell that delights me year after year

the arrival of boxes and bags of new plants and shrubs, waiting to be planted

rose-breasted grosbeaks and the indigo bunting pair, arriving five days earlier than usual

a friend from high school, who I hadn't need in years, knocking at my front door

gaining wisdom; gaining humility

a full year of health for my cats

almost winning the lottery (and planning how to spend the money we almost won)

buying all types of stationary supplies: pens, pencils, paper, 3-ring binders, etc.

finding a beautiful home to rent with great light and plenty of space

getting a great job after not having worked in a dozen years

the birth of a puppy, who will soon come to live with us

my son dressing himself in an all-velour outfit

kale, right from the garden

knee replacement a resounding success and my quality of life is vastly improved

my cat's incredible dexterity

marzipan

a crab molting before my eyes, somehow squeezing out through a thin slit in the back of her shell

a heavenly/tearful experience in the butterfly exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History

seeing the movie Harold and Maude for the first time

an island of puffins and a flock of elegant flamingos taking a bath in volcanic waters

witnessing the blooming of the stinky corpse plant, “titan arum,” (a once-every-fifteen-years event)

midnight sun in Iceland

laughing with friends, while riding an elephant

writing my dreams

stumbling upon a mountainside monastery in Seoul and getting invited to lunch with the monks

baby herons hatching

qigong on the beach at sunrise

standing up for what I truly believed was right

heating our house with wood for the first time ever and finding warmth never before experienced

dragonflies everywhere: on the side of my house, on the porch railings, on my arm, during one sunny day in autumn

learning how to make brioche

watching the walls go up on our new house

baby goats; spring peepers; white tail rabbits eating clover at the edge of the garden


==

In 2012, 30 people contributed to this list — children, teenagers, adults. Right now (November, 2023) I say THANK YOU, once again, to them all.