A Time…

 A Time To Remember 

It’s been a peaceful month

in our home near the sea,

where the locals are old, 

visitors are grateful, 

distant poets all in good form.

It’s been a month of reunion,

and daily thanksgiving, 

of many old friends

and a new few. 

We live mostly for today, 

knowing the gods will laugh 

at foolish plans beyond 

breakfast or lunch.

Winter’s not yet here, 

the heat lingering on.

No complaints heard, however,

not so much that they aren’t made,

just not heard. 

There’s much to be learned 

at this age, in this age.

A little loss of sound can be a blessing,

a chance to return to the

total self-absorption of youth.

This month brings homecoming reminders,

a time for connection and reconnection,

visits, phone calls, letters, cards, and emails,

in that very descending order of intimacy.

It really is unfortunate 

what that email thing has done to

letter writing, ancient and loving art.

Letters give more time, have more heart, 

allow the writer to be reflective, like a poet, 

searching, reaching, looking

for just the right words.

A writer of letters gets to recall,

to muse a bit about the addressee, to

remember precious moments, to dream of

better moments yet to come, 

maybe even to plan some, to say so.

It is a peaceful activity, letter writing,

perfect for the cooler days of year’s end. 

We’ll tiptoe through these next few weeks, 

knowing soon, the new year will come

and we’ll make it our peaceful own.

My sweetie, our old cat and me.