Walk around the Block - Houses on Cowbell - Dinner with Judy L - Poem: Sorrow of the Falling Leaves

I keep my silverware on the kitchen table. The ceramic pot was given to me 40 years ago by Lynne Henrion of Houston, TX.

Lynne is a retired school teacher. We knew one another when my ex and I lived in TX. She knew baby Sarah. When Sarah was about two she slept over Lynne's house. Sarah was always quite independent.

The glass jar above is from my Goddard friend Iris Arenson-Fuller. When I was recovering from my kidney t plant three years ago, she sent me flowers from Kremp.

I kept the glass jar.

Iris is a personal transformation life coach and poet.  

Took two walks around hilly Cowbell Road today. With and w/o boyfriend Scott.

The second walk I did instead of injecting insulin.

Here are some things I saw upon stepping out the door. 

 Leaf on lower left is levitating..... on a spider web.

What dyou spose the mourning glories are mourning?

Dyou spose this praying mantis will go after the prey in the spider web? I'll check it later.

Forty years ago when my dad was dying of cancer, I saw a preying mantis on my mailbox.

I took it as a good omen he would live.

That's called "grasping at.... preying mantises."

The man who lived here, John Leonard, was 96 when he died. He had a magnificent backyard garden. Wrote a couple of poems about him. Never, said my son Dan, show people poems about them. Not sure why. Any ideas, kids?

 They're doing a nice job fixing up the abandoned house. Now there's a great idea for a poem since I know all the people who lived there. Shall I put it on my "Poem To Do List?"

At the top of Greyhorse Road are these huge pumpkins.

Scott, I said on our walk, we've GOT to make a scarecrow this year. It's something we've wanted to do.

Scott found some new backercises on YouTube we'll do together.

However, we won't nap together as Judy L is coming over at 4 and we'll go out for dinner, probly Asian cuisine.

 The realtor Norma Moore lives here, I believe. Once I found a twenty dollar bill outside on her sidewalk and gave it to her. She thanked me.

A man named Terry lives here. He uses cedar mulch in his garden.

See, I know all the important points about the houses. But I DO NOT KNOW the people.

 Recently seal-coated with exquisite brick path. Artificial fleurs in the upstairs flower boxes. I had to remove my flower boxes as squirrels procreated in there.

 Very steep hill up the drive. Scott and I are on level ground. C'mon over and see us some time.

I particularly like the "Belgian" blocks that line the driveway.

 John DeLuca, a retiree from SEPTA, lives with his aged mama here. I used the same company he did for his stone wall. I had a step put in at my front door b/c the one step was too high up for little five foot Ruthie.

 The Kiernan slant.

This is a magnificent tree, but I don't know the name.

Why is it important to know names? Tell me, if you know.

Brought these autumn leaves inside. My goal? Write a poem about them.

Judy arrived early and off we went to

Colonial Quy-Bae French Asian rest.

Each of us had the two vegetarian dishes on the men-ooo

See the tofu? bok-choy? Judy got Asian eggplant which I'll order next time. Mine was too spicy and I was coughing, teary-eyed.

Judy brought some of her marvelous writing to share with me. She and her mother Blanche are some of my oldest and best friends. Mom will turn 90 this month. She came to our Dr Sadoff presentation but Judy could not as she works as a librarian at Beth Sholom, the Frank Lloyd Wright synagogue.

J

When Michelle our waitress arrived, I said, Michelle, we are not allowed to order dessert.

The creme brulee was spectacular. Judy got red velvet cake.

Judy goes to synagogue every Saturday morning for Shabbat services - is that what they're called - and sits with friends there. She told me she'll pick up her Rosh Hash. tix.

I asked her if she feels the presence of God when she's at shul.

She thot a moment and said, No, but I feel a sense of peace and purified.

She is a woman in tune with her feelings.

We made a plan. I promised to call her at 9 pm. I would read my corrected short story "The Power of Love" to her and she would read me a few flash fiction stories.

She liked my story a lot and said it gave her an empty feeling. Well, at least she felt something. This is the story I wrote about a 'death bed scene.'



THE SORROW OF FALLING LEAVES

They follow me as I

clamber up the hill

tulip   maple   oak   beech   and   dogwood

autumn leaves,

they clatter behind me like women

in heels

Like Orpheus, I dare not look back

but stoop instead and bring them

home. We will live together a while

following Corey’s “Every day nature

gives us gifts”

then, aging together, an inner glimmer

will mark their disappearance.

And mine.