( a poem for my children’s grandmother : Nonna Anna in Italy)
In Nonna’s house:
The days fall away,
a colorful array
of leaves and moments,
laughter and time.
Nonna carefully
collates,
collects,
places …
one
by
one
in the bowl,
on the table,
rubber bands
and
string,
birthday bows
and
ribbons
hanging their bright tails over the edge …
remainders,
reminders.
Then the late-autumn rains
blow open the balcony doors
with a bang
and
the bowl of ribbons and bows
wave and wag their tails ,
like delicate lace and leftover smiles.
Just as quickly as the doors flew open,
the wind shifts and guides the doors
back into place,
side by side
with the curtains swaying gently,
a polite curtsy to
yesterday.
—
This post was previously published on medium.com.
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From The Good Men Project on Medium
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