Trust sweater weather
for steamy mug of tea
and warm conversation.
Affecting music
even with no lyrics, moves
the coldest of hearts.
Winter Olympics,
please bring earnest empathy
nation-to-nation.
Mittens are better
for keeping fingers warm,
for they get to cuddle.
Each winter, our birds
follow suet meals with a
preheated bird bath.
(c) Marie Elena Good 2026
Visit with Grandpa
Walking up my street,
I see a man walking toward me.
Aww. Looks like Grandpa, I think,
knowing it couldn’t be.
As we get closer, there is no mistaking.
Yes, it is Grandpa.
I don’t want to wake up, and miss out.
He approaches me.
“Grandpa!”
He gives me a hug.
As is nearly always the case when I dream
of the dead, all senses are engaged.
“Grandpa, what are you doing here?”
He says he came to tell me not to worry about
circumstances that were consuming me.
Everything would be just fine.
Then he says, “You know I can’t stay.”
Yes, of course.
I just don’t want to lose him again
so quickly.
“But I will come back,” he assures.
He hugs me again, and,
just that quick,
he’s gone.
My long, detailed dream continues.
It seems to last a good portion of the night.
Suddenly, there he is again.
This time, he doesn’t speak.
His silence stills me,
while it declares a grand reassurance.
I wake from the dream,
recognizing it hadn’t been merely a dream.
And I smile.
When he said he would return,
I hadn’t realized he meant
that quickly.
That night.
That dream.
© Marie Elena Good 2023
Steam from the kettle
tells its story of comfort
on my cold window.
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2022
There’s a chill in the air. Just enough to grab a sweater and cute boots. Enough to birth sweet, crisp apples. The kind of perfect chill that calls my dad to mind - the pride I felt watching him direct the Star-Spangled Banner for the football pregame on a perfect autumn afternoon that smelled of popcorn and stadium dogs. The kind of chill that warms my heart and feeds my joy. Fall: The season of my heart. Fall: Collapse. As I drink in the season, life collapses at the feet of a friend. She writes of the woeful loss of her husband with words that both singe and chill. I know her only from afar, but I know her. How often have her stirring words and soothing photos of the beauty surrounding her touched my heart, and lifted my spirits? How often has she bravely shared the slow slide of Alzheimer’s as it stole her sweetheart far too soon? When the news came to me, I spent much time vainly stringing words and counting syllables - only to realize there’s a chill in the air, and no words warm enough. © Marie Elena Good, 2021 Dearest Janet: May you feel the strength of our Father’s love, and the warmth of your Poetic Bloomings family. Gentle hugs …
Words may speak comfort
to the wounded. But, more so,
a shoulder. A tear.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April Poem-a-Day Challenge at Poetic Asides (Day 3: Write a Communication poem).
Photo by Keith R. Good
Sleep came,
but the dreams that accompanied it
were disturbing
and all I could do was pray for peace
as worry for her threatened to devour me.
Disquiet was my life for months
and months
and months.
Then one night I found myself
walking a path of undisturbed snow.
The moon was my only light –
just enough to illumine the path,
glisten against the falling snowflakes,
and reveal the immense evergreen forest.
There was silence,
save the calming crunch
of snow beneath my feet.
I walked the breathtaking beauty all night,
accompanied by One who knows me intimately –
the only One who offers stillness
in the midst of turbulence.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
“… and he said to the sea, ‘Peace, be still.’ And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.” ~ Mark 4:39
It’s Mom’s recipes –
stained, and written in her hand –
that nourish my heart.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
In last night’s sky
I saw hundreds of stars
above me,
and I remembered
Michigan’s night sky,
when you and I stood
beneath not hundreds
but billions
or trillions
and I wished
I could take them home.
In last night’s sky
I saw hundreds of stars
above me.
Today, not even one.
Not even the sun.
But now?
Now, I know they are here –
billions
and trillions
and even the sun,
and even when I see
not even one.
And I see no need
to take them home,
for now I see
they are my home.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
When fall visits,
we crisscross the trail –
never tiring
of the crunch of crisp leaves
beneath us,
savoring childlike fun.
The brisk, fresh air
invigorates –
motivates us to
ride further,
sometimes pausing
to capture photos
of fall foliage, fields
dotted with orange pumpkin;
orchards with red apples.
Bushed and beaming,
we head home,
cautiously peering
around multi-colored leaf
piles raked to the curb –
some taller
than the cars avoiding them.
Home,
warm and cozy,
fire in the fireplace,
popcorn popping,
already reminiscing,
hoping tomorrow
is more of the same.
© Marie Elena Good, 2018
FOR POETIC BLOOMINGS AUTUMNAL POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE, 2018, DAY 9: SOUP
My comfort foods are piping hot.
They never fail to hit the spot.
I’ll savor solace that they’ve brought,
And when I’m done, my coffee pot.
For where is comfort in cold foods,
That cannot warm cold attitudes
And never will they change foul moods.
There’s nothing cozy in cold foods.
But I could swear that buttered rolls
Can hinder malice in cold souls,
As can hot pies and big warm bowls
Of soups and stews and casseroles.
© Marie Elena Good, 2018
FOR POETIC BLOOMINGS AUTUMNAL POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE, 2018, DAY 8: COMFORT FOOD
pictured words 