A Photo and a Poem
I love this picture for a million reasons. It captures the essence of "Grandma Cindy," in one of her favorite Portland places. She and Grandpa John came from Boulder for a visit a couple of weeks ago. We visited the Chinese Gardens on one of those perfect sharp-sunny spring days when everything is so pretty it makes your eyes hurt.
In this picture Cindy is wearing a Clapotis shawl I gave her for Christmas. She has her beautiful silver hair clip. This is the view of Grandma Cindy that makes me think of a poem I read on the bus here. (Yes, instead of adds for Alka-Seltzer on the insides of our Portland buses, we have poems, courtesy of the city. It's pretty cool, and VERY Portland.)
I shared this poem once before on this blog, but it's worthy of a second look, now that there's a picture to match. Grocery store or Chinese Gardens, it's all the same universe.
I Confess
by Alison Luterman
I stalked her in the grocery store:
her crown of snowy braids held in place by a great silver clip,
her erect bearing, radiating tenderness,
the way she placed yogurt and avacados in her basket,
beaming peace like the North Star.
I wanted to ask, "What aisle did you find your serenity in,
do you know how to be married for 50 years, or how to live alone,
excuse me for interrupting, but you seem to possess
some knowledge that makes the earth burn and turn on its axis"
but we don't request such things from strangers nowadays.
So I said, "I love your hair."
In this picture Cindy is wearing a Clapotis shawl I gave her for Christmas. She has her beautiful silver hair clip. This is the view of Grandma Cindy that makes me think of a poem I read on the bus here. (Yes, instead of adds for Alka-Seltzer on the insides of our Portland buses, we have poems, courtesy of the city. It's pretty cool, and VERY Portland.)
I shared this poem once before on this blog, but it's worthy of a second look, now that there's a picture to match. Grocery store or Chinese Gardens, it's all the same universe.
I Confess
by Alison Luterman
I stalked her in the grocery store:
her crown of snowy braids held in place by a great silver clip,
her erect bearing, radiating tenderness,
the way she placed yogurt and avacados in her basket,
beaming peace like the North Star.
I wanted to ask, "What aisle did you find your serenity in,
do you know how to be married for 50 years, or how to live alone,
excuse me for interrupting, but you seem to possess
some knowledge that makes the earth burn and turn on its axis"
but we don't request such things from strangers nowadays.
So I said, "I love your hair."
posted by Carolyn at 12:56 AM
5 Comments:
I love seeing that poem on the Max! And it looks like Grandma Cindy has that kind of hair.
What a beautiful picture and poem. Clapotis looks great on her shoulders.
A perfect poem for a perfect picture. Grandma Cindy must be a wonderful person for you to equate this poem with her.
Alison is my cousin! I absolutely love that I read about her poems that are on a bus, via a knitting blog. Thanks so much!
Carrie, I love you dearly. And the Clapotis shawl is my favorite to wear because it stays perfectly in place--while I'm working and playing and even in the wind and rain. Cindy
Post a Comment
<< Home