Letter Box On Line (LBOL) Files #45
Section B: .................................................................. August 15, 2017
Del Rey Oaks, CA
As the warm yellow light
After several inches
Flowers stab the eye
Water puddles swallow up baked earth
Spade foot frogs freed by the water
The froggy lovers
The full grown young
Section A: .................................................................. July 15, 2017
Del Rey Oaks, CA
I stand above the sun white bed
Unsure of what will happen
Will bear come out,
Will the yellow orb
I try once more
And be right sized.
She stood on the landing outside Cottage B-21, her hands clutching the fog kissed railing as she watched me get into my car. Her red-draped shoulders hunched just a little against the misty morning and as I watched she released the metal bars and hugged herself against the chill.
In a flash I pictured those beloved arms that only moments before had lightly embraced me in a farewell hug—arms whose flesh had loosened from her bones and donned a paper-thin gown of multicolored age spots punctuated by small bruises like black and blue petals scattered by the wind. She was fragile now, unsteady on her feet, and movement through busy shopping malls or crowded grocery aisles always resulted in surprise blooms she never recalled receiving. The hands now tucked protectively around her too thin torso were bent and twisted, fingers determined to go their own way and thumbs so sunken in her palms they were basically useless. And yet . . . and yet . . .
Only hours before I had sat in the fourth pew under cathedral ceilings and listened to those gnarled hands dance over the pipe organ keyboard in a manner so light and airy my heart lifted like a butterfly to follow her notes. She could barely hold a pen, she couldn't possibly open a reluctant jar, but she could still coax beautiful music from black and white ivory. And those hands, boney as they were, still had the power to send waves of love to my receptive skin when she lightly caressed my cheek as she said goodbye and wished me safe journey.
As I stood by my car, door already open, suitcase safely stowed, I looked up at her smiling face once more and caught the first of her gently blown kisses. This was her tradition, started ages ago in a time my memory can't reach, first one hand then the other lifted in rhythmic goodbye, delicate kisses sent through the air in motherly blessing. Heart clutching, I send my own volley of love back to her, end with a small wave, slide into my seat and shut the door. Her kisses keep coming, magically following my car even as I pull away, her love slipping into my heart for the long ride home.
Thank you for your creative offerings!
I invite readers to share their own creative works (poems, stories, images, comment, etc.) in Letter Box On Line (LBOL). I look for work and comments I feel support understanding and encouragement of the creative process, and hence, the process of life.
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