Greetings, Poetry-Friday-ers! Ah, the weather. Last week I recounted being snowed in at my daughter’s the weekend before (always a big deal in the South), and now we've had a steady chilly rain here on the coast, followed by chilly temps. But Tuesday, Groundhog Day, was glorious.
I let our tiny dog out on the screened-in front porch and couldn’t resist a break for me, too. Ms. Betty was busy just up the street, and she inspired a poem.
Ms. Betty inspires admiration from a lot of folks. She’s always on the go defending green space or Little Free Libraries or helping with some church project. When I first moved here, she called from her walk with her dog – “Do you like potatoes? I just picked a basket. They’re on the steps. Go help yourself.”
Not one to turn down such kindness, or yummy red potatoes, I did go grab a few and scrawled a little thank you note to leave in their place. They were delicious, and I told her so later. I learned it was the first time she’d attempted a vegetable garden without her husband, who had passed away not long before I moved here.
Three mornings a week, Ms. Betty gets up at 5:30 to drive herself to go work out. Rain or shine, she makes sure Buddy, the rescue dog her daughter gave her after the loss of her husband, gets in all his walks.
She is always quick with a kind word, witty observation, or handwritten note.
Yep, I want to be just like Ms. Betty when I grow up.
Groundhog Day
You’d think it spring -
sunny and 74.
Ms. Betty
(88, give or take)
smartly dressed as always
ties her scruffy dog to a tree
wields a shovel in her
garden-gloved hands
stoops to adjust a root
straightens, then stomps
on the blade’s end
to scoop the earth.
Her white cat
serpentines
around leg, tree
plops herself on the grass
to roll and paw at the dog.
You’d think it spring.
©Robyn Hood Black. All rights reserved.
No matter the weather, go stock up on lots of great poetry today with the ever-energetic Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect. Read More
I let our tiny dog out on the screened-in front porch and couldn’t resist a break for me, too. Ms. Betty was busy just up the street, and she inspired a poem.
Ms. Betty inspires admiration from a lot of folks. She’s always on the go defending green space or Little Free Libraries or helping with some church project. When I first moved here, she called from her walk with her dog – “Do you like potatoes? I just picked a basket. They’re on the steps. Go help yourself.”
Not one to turn down such kindness, or yummy red potatoes, I did go grab a few and scrawled a little thank you note to leave in their place. They were delicious, and I told her so later. I learned it was the first time she’d attempted a vegetable garden without her husband, who had passed away not long before I moved here.
Three mornings a week, Ms. Betty gets up at 5:30 to drive herself to go work out. Rain or shine, she makes sure Buddy, the rescue dog her daughter gave her after the loss of her husband, gets in all his walks.
She is always quick with a kind word, witty observation, or handwritten note.
Yep, I want to be just like Ms. Betty when I grow up.
Groundhog Day
You’d think it spring -
sunny and 74.
Ms. Betty
(88, give or take)
smartly dressed as always
ties her scruffy dog to a tree
wields a shovel in her
garden-gloved hands
stoops to adjust a root
straightens, then stomps
on the blade’s end
to scoop the earth.
Her white cat
serpentines
around leg, tree
plops herself on the grass
to roll and paw at the dog.
You’d think it spring.
©Robyn Hood Black. All rights reserved.
No matter the weather, go stock up on lots of great poetry today with the ever-energetic Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect. Read More
