The snow rests on the ground
hard as marble
our green recyclables
are wedged on a mountain peak
in Darien, while the squirrel-
proof garbage can leans against
Mount Rushmore featured in
North by Northwest. Hurry, hurry!
Our garbage truck will
come huffing up the street, the morrow.
An unforgettable sound,
not quite like Callas in Norma
but more like Scuffy, The Tugboat.
Written, of course, by Gertrude Crampton.1909-1996. So she was 86 when she died. Is that right?
Gertrude Crampton. Ya think they called her Trudi? Born in NYC and died in Green Valley Arizona.She led an important life!
Gonna go upstairs with my cuppa vanilla tea, no caffeine, and finish a short story for the Montco Writer's Competition.
Wrote my poem, which sister Lynn approved. I'd wrin Jana and asked if she knew the line length. I opined, OK, then I'll write 999 lines, as did Vladimir Nabokov in his Pale Fire. Sarah had recently told me that and it stuck in my mind like Bazooka Bubble Gum!
Hey, maybe that's the cure for all dem horrible memory diseases.
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