Eliza Doolittle Day;
just you wait!

I

Out of the blue,
the widower of my cousin
contacted me today.

It’s been years
and he and his new wife
are talking of coming back east
someday,
maybe New England in the fall.

Most of our family reunions
have been wakes or funerals;
we don’t gather around joy
as often as we should.

But he’s remarried,
and his widowed sister-in-law
is in a new relationship.
We could have a wonderful
strange
meet the relatives
family gathering.

II

One friend hikes
the Appalachian Trail
another
the Camino de Santiago.
Some of us journey together
digitally
and share stories of our journey;
our hopes and fears,
obstacles and disappointments,
and most importantly
our friendship
and mutual support.

III

The poets gather
to read their poems
and critique one another
and I realize again
the importance of voice.

My voice
is rarely found in rhymed couplets.
It is a spoken voice
sacrificing conciseness
for cadence,
struggling more with concepts
than physical images.

As we all try to find our own voices,
we need to help others find theirs.

IV

Quietly, alone,
I clean the house
and prepare for a dump run.
Later,
I attend a picnic,
head home to write,
and then to sleep.