Ode to an Eraser
Oh, thou rectangular prism of rubber
Obliterator of mistakes
Bestower of second chances
Receive now my gratitude and praise
When my feeble words fail to convey my thoughts
Thou makest them disappear
Before they shame me
When my scribbled marks lack the skill to convey my vision
Thou allowest me to try again
I long for perfection
But thy provision
Drawest me closer
Though thou diminishest with use
Thou art ever more beautiful to me
Jumble of my Life (Collage)
scraps of piano sheet music
a map of Germany
an image of a nun
numbers (they confound me)
part of a lesson plan
some feeble attempts at art
the header of my blog
our wedding portrait
My parents’ kitchen window
looked out on a lilac bush.
During May its scent
wafted through the open window
delighting with its fragrance
and making mundane chores pleasant.
My mother washed the dishes
and I was the designated dryer.
The radio, perennially set to WOR,
entertained us with the stories of Jean Shepherd.
Lost in his world (Flick lives!)
we hardly noticed the drudgery.
Six blocks away, a young man
(whom I wouldn’t meet for years)
also listened in.
After we married, we visited
with our little ones
importing the piano bench so
we’d all fit ’round the kitchen table.
My children still remember
the characteristic smell of that kitchen—
like decades of simmering pots.