Friday, September 18, 2015
Fran's poem about our Wednesday Poets gathering.
On Wednesday Evenings at the Barton Library
One hundred years ago we would have sat:
Perhaps we’d have enjoyed some idle chat.
But not completely idle. We’d have known that
Devils find work, a Scriptural rebuke, and how
We’d scold ourselves! Pure leisure was unknown then.
Elders, too, had evening chores. And when
Departing summer breezes rattled doors,
A younger relative might even make
A fire in the stove for us. Just for the sake of
Warming our old bones on September 8.
Mending harness. Darning socks. And braiding
Old clothes for rugs. Knit two, purl three, appreciating
One another’s work:
“Oh, Maude, that is a beautiful design!”
“Marie, you’ll use that shawl come wintertime!”
One hundred years on, we’re the elders. Leisure’s
Unapologetic, unalloyed. Pleasure is
Diversion. Lonely electronics. We have to say
We’re bored sometimes. And so we make our way
To a basement room where we can congregate:
Befriend, support, critique (though always gently), re-create
Through poetry, aesthetic joy. Though not the ancestral way,
We share pleasure working with companions together at the close of day.
That was then
This is now.
This September 8th was hot as hell
Can we continue to deny climate change?