Life Crocheted

For me, having spent considerable time with my parents in nursing homes, I often found the experience very unpredictable, defying our normal perceptions, embracing instead a world of expectation.

Life Crocheted

Nursing homes know
arts and crafts
becoming valued visitors
some with knitted smiles
some with mistake’s foreshadow.

How tenuous.
How earnest.

Mixed genders
sitting in circles,
anxiously hooking
thick wool string into meaning,
tendrils of perpetuity,
threading dreams,
shawls of protection,
scarfs of statement,
booties of tomorrow.

Trees of life,
now but withered branches
shedding leaves of time
by twig-like fingers,
punctuating yesterday
with every hole by hole entry,
every stitch by stitch attachment,
allowing Age's changing colors
to float blithely earthward
and beyond.

Like observant wings on high,
visitors can but gaze down upon
Time's swirling visions in slow motion,
a vortex permitting but a glimpse
of our own yet-to-come reality.

For now…

We ride the draft,
peering safely from afar
as seasoned providence
weaves lessons into
what is still to come.

Something long…

Something wide…

Something arresting remembrance.

Reviews

[Poetic Beauty]

This is a detailed piece about growing old. Love the stanza about trees of life. This gives the reader a glimps into what the golden years is like.