(6) Mon May 01 2006 14:43: I'm in California with my Aunt Frances. She is handling her pain like a champion.
Posted by Sabine at Mon May 01 2006 18:28
Hugs my friend...my thoughts and prayers are with you.Love,
Posted by Michelle at Tue May 02 2006 11:46
My hugs to you to...Dave is doing great with the boys, saw him this morning at playgroup. Hope things are going as well as can be expected :)
Posted by Ann at Tue May 02 2006 18:30
I finally just figured out that I can leave a comment on here directly instead of emailing you everytime. You are in my thoughts.
Posted by Frances Whitney (via David M) at Fri May 05 2006 17:33
The Bows We Tie
My sister, in the brides' room, said
'You ought to write a poem:
The bows we tie."
Dimity for a blessing gown
English smocking, tiny bows
of silky ribbon,
and cotton floss tied quilts.
Shoelaces, hair plaits and balloons on wrists
Of happy cousin visiting the zoo.
Gifts, sashes, birthdays, Christmas promises
Graduate cords and laurels. (Sealings all.) Such packages-
We're in the brides' white room
Remembering each, no need to talk through tears
The bow we tied, our mother's veil-
The other veil, and covered o'er her face
That last time. Now, our first,
We primp the veil about her face
And tie a bow.
I'm crawling on the floor,
An auntly office, to repair the hem.
"You write it, then,"
I mutter through the pins.
"Life's squeezed the poems from me."
It's lassoed me rough knots of tangled twine
rough jute, or braided thorns.
The bride stands tall; her roots are strong and deep.
Her mother fluffs the headdress, I the sash.
Clean willow sapling, clad with fresh green leaf,
We tied her bows.
And now today, for her, I wrote the poem.
2 February 2002
Posted by Ann at Fri May 05 2006 21:11
Thank you for sharing that beautiful poem.
Posted by Kristen at Sat May 06 2006 19:29
Thanks Dave for writing that for us.