A curated webspace for Poetry, Politics, and Nature. Over 18,800 daily subscribers. Over 7,000 archived posts.
When we finally sprung my father from the hospital
after days spent staring at the cardio unit’s
cinderblock walls the color of nothing
good, his joy could not be contained.
Every meal he ate was the best he’d ever had.
I worried, at first, that my mother would feel slighted
by his ecumenical praise—the biscuits on the buffet line
at the Golden Corral no less holy than hers. But she knew
better than I how to savor his delights.
As we traveled the back roads from doctor to home,
he asked at every turn,
Have you ever seen a spring as beautiful as this,
the red of that maple, the washed denim sky?
Copyright Pauletta Hansel. Originally published in Thimble Literary Magazine: VOL. 3 NO. 3, November, 2020.
Pauletta Hansel’s eight poetry collections include Friend, Coal Town Photograph and Palindrome, winner of the 2017 Weatherford Award for best Appalachian poetry.
I remember mom looking through my window at the blooming jacaranda. “Oh, that’s so beautiful!” And then 5 minutes later, “oh that’s so beautiful!” Then three minutes over and over until I distracted her. Then again. And I always agreed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, my mother as well.
LikeLiked by 2 people
So many of us have shared these experiences of late, witnessing our elders savoring their final days, weeks, hours.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, we have.
LikeLiked by 1 person