Rose Lake Photo credit: Keith R. Good, 2014
Who came to decide
the precise color of sky –
which blue hue, and why?
For the ocean’s sky
on a sunny day, may be
pegged as Robin’s Egg,
while she that adorns
a brisk Erie autumn morn
is a deep, cold blue –
the loveliest hue.
And I’ve clamed her and named her
my October Sky.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
This photo is not a well-focused, balanced, artistic photo. It is just my snapshot
of homemade chicken noodle soup, made by my super caring husband.
It is one thing I have to be thankful for while I am sick on my favorite week of the year.
And there are so many others.
My cozy home, with the Christmas tree up, and a comfortable recliner from which to enjoy it.
My soft lavender robe, and just-as-soft tissues for my nose.
A family member who will be doing a Thanksgiving meal “porch drop” for Keith and me,
and other family members who offered the same
and friends and students who have offered food and help and loving words of encouragement
and who check in on me just because they are selfless souls who care deeply
and a doctor able to see me on the same day I called
and insurance to pay the doctor and the medicine
and a comfortable spare bedroom for Keith to sleep in so I don’t keep him awake with my cough
and WhatsApp to keep in touch for free with my daughter in India
and the amazing, gentle care she is receiving for a herniated disc, from grandmotherly women
and doctors making daily home visits to the room she is renting from these women
and the ease of heart it helps me feel while she is there alone and in pain and without my help
and the Father of All who is no less there than He is here
and the vast array of birds and fun critters outside my huge windows that let in all the light
and loving souls in my life who share their beautiful words and prayers and sentiments and lives
and parents who passed on, but left themselves in unspeakable ways right here in my heart
and children who struggle, but l.o.v.e. in all the ways afforded to them, and who I proudly call my own
and granddaughters who give joy in ways I never could have imagined
and their daddy who is not just an in-law to me
and music
and poetry
and books
and life
and Jesus in the nativity beneath my tree, and His saving cross at the top
and the Word of God
and the Lamb of God
and the love of God
and no period, because there is no end
Bonnie
She showed up at the nursing home, waiting to be let in. Of course her chances for entry were near zero, as animals were not welcome. But this pretty golden retriever would not take no for an answer. I don’t know the story of how she actually gained entrance. I can only tell you that by the time my grandmother was in their care, she had already become part of the facility’s staff. We were told that, from her very first moment inside, it seemed like she had just always been there. She knew where everything was. She knew the routine. She knew this was a quiet place, and she abided. She knew when a patient was soon to die. She graciously stayed with them and comforted them until they passed … but not before seeking entry permission from a nurse. She knew her role. This was her life’s work.
I wonder … sometimes,
might we glimpse Eden’s garden
in full bloom, pre-fall
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
WD November Chapbook Challenge, Day 9. Write a “blank of the blank” poem
This chub-a-wub, bushy-tailed cutie
who’s embraced his true calling of foodie,
has put the kibosh
on my nice autumn squash,
and reduced my front porch to a nudie.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
blustery out there
but warm in here with my love
welcoming blizzards
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2022
Trust sweater season
to have warm conversation
and hot chocolate.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
Snuggle with a sleepy story
under a thick layer
of quiet.
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2022
Steam from the kettle
tells its story of comfort
on my cold window.
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2022
Deanna’s cutie camel, all tuckered out
WD November Chapbook Challenge, Day 4. Write an “In the (blank )” poem
In the Far Reaches
There’s currently nine
and a half-hours’ time diff’rence
between her and me.
I use what seems nine
checking the clock to reckon
what time it is, there.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
WD November Chapbook Challenge, Day 3. Write a misguided poem
A Misguided Poem
When this poem saw
its writer, it counted on
seventeen syllab
-les
© Marie Elena Good 2022
pictured words 