On Waking to Shakespeare’s Garden in Autumn
On this young autumn’s sun-squint light-bright morn,
I snuggle like a Joey safe reclined
In pouch, so glad to dream sweet days fast gone.
I see round pink tails take their own sweet time
To nibble my much-loved, green garden down
Ignoring all but fragrant balm and thyme.
At last awake in William’s hut, I see
Only bits of chewed plants’ scattered debris.
This day, pink roses still greet the sun
and spread such scents I know with Puck in mind.
Rose Eglantine’s sweet nose my nose will stun
with floral scents to reach my soul now primed
to sense fall airs. I bend my head anew
to see the last surviving roses’ view.
Rings
I yet recall the day we stopped to buy
our marriage rings at the local jewelry store.
We searched each case. We peered through countertops
before the lone salesman (no sales “they” then)
displayed our choice. Breathless, we bought our bands.
Soon came new years to raise our four offspring
and then our children’s children grown too fast,
fast lost in widespread universities to play,
to learn, to sport, to seek new paths, new loves
fresh absent empty nest advice from us.
So many years have flown like birds gone south.
These nights we search Hulu and Netflix shows
reviewing places, we could not glob trot
or watching old BritBox comedy acts
with neighbor friends we’d gathered in our ring.
Full round the ring our lives have spun,
our life cycle now most likely marred
when Death brings news of loved ones rowed
across the river Styx. We clasp our hands,
our long ringed fingers locked, a single bond.
James Bellanca, 87, is a retired high school English teacher and author/publisher of teacher education guides who came lately to writing poetry. As a gardener, he learned to celebrate the natural world in his backyard. He favors formal narratives in which he weaves nature with themes of peace, justice, family with sardonic commentary into the foibles of senior life. His work has appeared in Witcraft, Down in the Dirt Magazine, Ethereal Haunted Journal, The Oakleaf, and Solution Tree Press. He organically gardens with his wife and friends in Lake Forest, Illinois.
Sparks of Calliope 