where their red hair comes from
but that’s okay, it comes from love’s
ocean we’re all mermaiding in.
it comes from the doctor’s daughter who
in 1916 at age 10 posed in a Nova Scotia
summergarden with a chestnut violin.
it comes from the pines and the lilacs
of the dance hall she bought on auction
with 800 borrowed dollars in 1942,
the dance hall now in arrears,
but with my loving intention will shine
up the seashells again in seven years.
(because all love is up to me.)
one day, the invisible red thread that ties us all together
will reveal how after her too-young Episcopalian minister
husband died suddenly and unexpectedly of heart attack,
she took up buying and selling
antiques for the next 35 years,
finally closing shop at age 85
and her eyes at age 97.
how she never remarried, but
for a while had a beau who landed
on the beach in front of her house
to take her flying by seaplane.
how she loved silver
blue cotton sundresses
a glass of white a night
her 3 sons, their wives
and went on to outlive
all her sisters and friends,
but not the lilacs, and
not the love writing
this bottled message
here in Texas today.
will 2 red-haired angels
one day get to be friends
with a little half-sister,
maybe show her around
all the secret caves and coves
of the island they call home?
I hope so!
but who knows?
who knows how it
all will go, really?
i sure don’t, but
my money’s on the love
and on the red string
that knows all
the best waves are
still yet to come.
~~ end of poem written with hope and trust in all things good.
And hey — it’s Tuesday!
Sorry I’ve not been out to most of your blogs lately, I’m still in major bread-winning mode these days.
Love you all, tho. And plan on blog-hopping later this week, whoooohoooooo.