A Note not Written

1/1046     F/2.8     ISO-68

1/1046      F/2.8      ISO-68

In the glove box
a forgotten note card
stashed quickly, months ago
waiting on lists and errands
to carry a message
into the back woods

How have you been?
Is the Queen Anne’s Lace blooming in the front field
How’s Helen’s sister up the lane?

I’ll confess the distance
the time between words, hand-scripted
bridges between the
smells in your kitchen and
my sunny afternoon window
The times we picked black berries in
August mosquito clouds ~
and the sharp lines of the doctor’s waiting room

I miss you is the message
wound around the margins
the small vignettes, both regular and momentous

A deliberate story line flows
without eraser or backspace
life in the recent past
short bursts of humor, of gratitude,
of dreams that wind though many letters we’ve shared
Like ice cream celebrations at midnight
and white knuckle vigils with
salt and poignancy

The art of correspondence  – long hand
re-writing love – memories – friendship
with the soft familiarity of a worn dish towel
your speckled, turned hands
and the warmth of smile and a hot cup of tea

I can see you read this note, looking onto
the bird feeder flurry ~
those bossy Michigan blue jays
Feel your reassurance,
yet a child in your arms

I will leave this note card
filled with Spring storms and
children’s laughter 
at your graveside.

By Wendy Oldenbrook (view more of Wendy’s work here).

2 replies »

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