She Sits in the Old, Red Chair

She  sits in the old, red chair

feet up, the red crush of the ottoman

giving rest to tired ankles.

At ninety-nine, her face is lined

and thin, cheekbones jut beneath

piercing young eyes, as hands, 

thin, pale skin barely concealing

vein and bone, lie in repose in her lap

as we talk, remembering all the days

and find her mind a crystal stream

vibrant, alive with a life of love

filled with places past 

and people gone.

We Must Be Grateful

"For all God's gifts there must be in us a response of 

thanksgiving and happiness and joy." 

Thomas Merton, Seeds of Contemplation.

***

We must be grateful

when the old ones leave.

Forsaking the March sun,

they brush off tender, white blossoms.

Past the fleeing migrations,

they exhale their final, tainted breath.

Rising from earthen bones

in deep silence, new hymns intone

of thanksgiving and joy

and home.

(28 Nov 2013)

_________________________
Dedicated to my aunt, Sister Rachel Willett, who died today, June 2, 2016, at the age of 94.

Image: Stephen J. Kaltenbach, "Portrait of My Father"  Crocker Museum. Acrylic on canvas