The elders are going One by one they take their leave last breathes Or whispered goodbyes Sometimes without any words at all
Thin tall frames Short lumpy ones too Heads full with memories and songs Ever varying shades of gray
They’ve gathered all their days In a white cloth made of cotton And tied them to a stick With a string And thrown them over shoulders
Waving off the June bugs Dipping head and shoulders beneath the willows sway Whistling or humming or singing as they walk off into the deep green
Or into the dessert beige Beneath blues and reds and pinks Mountain ranges wave as they pass Sometimes silent as they go Or with wide smiles and laughter recalled
I’ll not forget, I pray The way you laughed The rhythmic way you walked Never
The breeze rises slow and strong lifting dust from earth gently falling down Like the tears we weep at your leaving I try but no thing makes your leaving less like your leaving
Even though the yarnalong link up isn’t happening just now — if I remember I am still sharing what I’m reading and knitting— it’s a nice practice to keeping a record.
I’m knitting Joanna’s cozy knee socks in a casual knit along for February ~ it’s a lovely free pattern that you can find here. I’m going quite slowly but I can tell they are a quick knit – if only one would decide to pick up the needles.
I finished reading and sometimes listening to Bless Me, Ultima which at first I loved and then decided wasn’t my style. I loved his familiar voice. I’m not sure what turned me in the end, it wasn’t the murder or magic, I think it was the gross boys he wrote. I’ll keep it on my shelves because of who wrote it and what he means to me personally as a New Mexican and a writer.
This week I am reading cookbooks, looking for inspiration. I’ve picked up the beautiful poems by Levi Romero again. I love his voice and it fills my brain and my rooms like music.
I’ve gotten half way through A Promised Land by Barack Obama. It’s really good and I’m glad to make my way through it however slowly I go.
I wrote before that the mostly quarantine calm of our Holidays this year were to us, “a kind of soothing balm to all of our scrapes and wounds that this strange year has brought us.”
But what I did not say, perhaps because the thoughts had not yet been processed, is that – the mostly quarantined calm of this last season of Holidays and weirdly even big days like this last Sunday’s Super Bowl left me with room for sadness and mourning.
I suppose this is another gift given by this pandemic. The unexpected quiet gives us space and time and to see and feel all the things that busy life didn’t leave us room for before. Just one more surprise, a sort of small grace. One more hard thing to be thankful for.
Winter is back. Although New Mexico isn’t the most Wintery type of place. I’m hungry for Spring and Summer. I’m letting myself begin to think about gardens and chickens and clothes hanging on clothes lines. I’m eager for sunshine and hot days and June bugs. For bare feet and slow walks, trampolines and lazy afternoons reading in the grass.
I sure hope we get there. I hope you get where you long for too.