They are blooming now, the cherry blossoms. I see them on FaceBook and Istagram. I know they are across the river in city parks, and up the road six or seven miles in the neighborhood where I used to live.
But here in COVID times, I do not find myself across the river or up the road much. Not to worry, though. In my own back yard, however briefly they can withstand the March rains and wind, my flowering quince regale me with their fleeting blossoms.
I’m going to build a solid house,
Good bones to frame it straight and true
Upon which fasten seasoned boards
The outside elements to subdue.
It shan’t be graced with gingerbread
that merely mildews in the rain,
or gargoyles leering overhead
evincing darkness and disdain.
A simple plan as fits my taste,
I aim to please no one but me.
One needn’t look for blemishes.
I’ll know they’re there; I’ll let them be.
My house will stand the tests of time
Clean lines that age but loathe to stray,
With understated grace and strength
to see me through my final days.
Today’sdVerse poetry prompt, as posed by sarahsouthwest: “I’d like you to look back over the last year and choose a poem that calls to you, and write a response to that.”
I chose a poem by Elizabeth Crawford Yates, a local poet who published in the 1950s. Her poem, “To a Time-Grayed House,” struck me in that she ascribes the aging process with “dread and wistfulness.” As I celebrate my 60th year on this planet, I don’t dread growing old nor do I pine for those long-lost days of youth. I do want to age gracefully though, and maintain my health as best I can. And so, the poem above was my response to this:
TO A TIME-GRAYED HOUSE
Though you may stare with dread and wistfulness
At youthful cottage and its sleek white dress,
Remember this. Too soon, that one may be
A peeling thing, with shaken masonry.
Elizabeth Crawford Yates
from her book Wind Carvings (copyright 1953)
What Rhymes with Stanza? 