The time has come,
after all my whining
about wanting quiet time,
an empty house,
no disruptions to my thoughts,
I remember being told,
“be careful what you wish
for…you MAY get it.”
The time has come
for the last to leave
and move away,
and not return
not just go to school,
join the Air Force,
(you tricked me here,
but I understand,
better life choices
or out of the house but
still with in reach …
twenty miles is almost
When the time came,
Y’all took my advice,
move near an airport
to make visiting easy…
Dallas airports seem
a world away.
Close but not so close.
The time has come for
the last “forever” move,
on her own,
the first grandchild to be on
My house has been her “base”,
home away from home,
for almost 19 years.
The time has come
for all good things
to come to an end.
Good things will start
in Texas for Sabrina,
her new home,
new school of art,
near her mother,
And I can’t forget
Baby and Kiki
who’ve been missed like
The time has come,
a new day
a new door opened,
a new chapter has
It’s a time to say
fresh squeezed orange juice
it was the norm growing up
helping Mother squeeze the orange juice
essence of orange on our hands
getting every drop of juice to share
sunshine in every sip
POSTED ON MARCH 27, 2019 BY KATHABELA WILSON
Poets Salon: The Scent of Orange
Please go to the link below for the other wonderful Scent of Orange poems.
Thinking of Mimi on her birthdate
Daffodils are being sold
A sign of spring reminds me
of Mimi so full of joy
and enjoying the changing
of the season.
What a blessing the world received
the day Joan was born.
Laughter in the rain
the sun in her spirit.
Missing Joan, with each daffodil of spring.
3/23/2019 … born 1940
Daffodil painting from Peace Post Card series
Window to the past
Today my son called to tell me he was reading a new book about
Robin Emery who had been a teacher of his. She also broke
the barrier for women in the sport of road racing in Maine.
Just moving to Maine, in 1971, that the young teacher I saw
thru my porch window, running out of the school playground
and up the hill, would in one year, ask to run in the Bangor
Labor Day Race.
“Well, my dear,” Emery mimics their patronizing tone.
“You can. Just don’t get in the way.”
She would some day break records and
pave the way for women runners every where.
a book, a window to the past
of barriers to women in sports
running for the love of running
reading about my world decades ago
remembering watching history
being made from my porch window
Prompt: small stones, windows
photo source, cover of Robin Emery’s book
“Maine’s First Lady of Running” by Ed Rice/ Amazon.com
black velvet pansies
this years delight
bright magenta blooms startle
coffee and cream pansies soothe
bleeding hearts favorite of neighbor
each time he walks by
five families of Canadian geese
… no passport required …
Mill Pond for swimming and lessons
then nap time for all,
dad watches the sky
two eagles watching goslings napping
men with cameras big as tanks
looking for eagles,
not goslings playing at feet
others with easels painting far mountains
in her own world
hubby grabs a book then dozes in sun
first time sighting: egret at top of tree
tourists scan horizon ~ never over head
no sign of geese or goslings ~ gone in hiding
people from away escaping summer heat
for me and my feathered friends
Goldilocks DownEast summer
Prompt: joyous discoveries you’ve made so far this summer
for Imaginary Garden with Toads
Last week, I went to St. Saviours Episcopal Church in
Bar Harbor, primarily to hear Chimesmaster Ilia Karp play
St. Saviour’s bells church bells.
I planned enough time to walk thru the church
and take time looking at the stained glass windows.
Joan, myself and often Ralph with us,
over the years spent many occasions at the church
for various programs.
The window that I have here is the one that started me
down memory lane about the times at the church with Joan.
It is near the front door and amazing. Another particular
space was the small chapel where Joan and I had attended,
I believe it was Morning Prayer, during a workshop.
The feeling of intimacy and the Holy Spirit is what I recall now.
heard over the village
written June 13, 2018 // Joan died April 13, 2018
TPOS prompt: June 29 tanka prose
TPOS prompt: February 4 2013 memory/experience
# 1 photo: Tiffany Stained Glass Window
For Annie Kane 1926
One of tryptic:
Alpha: Angel of the Nativity
# 2 photo: The small intimate chapel to the left of the main altar
inside St. Saviour’s Episcopal Church, Bar Harbor, ME