It is quite a fall season with the weather still so mild and comfortable and busy lives in between sleeping and waking. On Monday the wife and I drove over to Lisbon again to see my parents in the home. Dad has suffered some strokes that have caused the loss of coherent speech and the use of one side of his body. He wants to talk but gets frustrated with his illness. Hospice now comes in to see him often and brings their reassurance and comforting. I am 68 years old and have been fortunate to have him all that time. It has been very appreciated that a few good friends and relatives have visited the folks.
An event scheduled on the other end of the emotional index takes place this next Saturday when our older son marries his lady. I still remember clearly the day he was born and how I laid down on the car’s foot feed to back out of a slippery, snowy driveway. That was 34 years ago. The younger son married some years ago and already has two little kids to show for it. Just like my parents did, Mary and I entered the world of grandparents and have relished it.
Among other things I am a member of the Tanka Society of America, a poet group that specializes in writing the short verse form of tanka with a characteristic five line format. The editors of their journal Ribbons have seen fit to publish some of my work and the following will be submitted to them for consideration:
this daylily
blooms once and dies
but then
another bud opens
my sons, their sons …
It is a simple form, usually using a simple statement to point out a stronger element and uses few capitals or marks of punctuation. For its surface simplicity much can be said with it. It expresses my feelings at the present time.
