Part 1. LEGATO Since love and laughter sang the notes to her childhood, she tuned in to life. She felt melodic, harmonious, and ready to embrace her song. Part 2. ARPEGGIO A child bride’s ballad, meant to mirror her childhood, ends in broken chords. A sharp turn taken, her imposed solo becomes a balanced duet as her new partner discards the shards, and the two play in consonance. Her children (her heart), born improvisers, still long to dance their own dance. Part 3. CODA Moons rose and set. Her parents grew sickly; her song became elegy. Still, her partner hums his strength, and her Composer breathes psalms in her lungs. © Marie Elena Good, 2022
There are the teachers
equipped with knowledge, and the
skills to impart it
There are the teachers
with a passion for learning
that is contagious.
There are the teachers
who delight in (and well-wield)
books, maps, and whiteboards.
I am gifted with
none of that. But I love, and
love assists learning.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
I am of the age
where knocks at the door did not
need to be scheduled.
This was a time when
hospitality welcomed
spontaneity.
A time when one was
made to feel valuable –
greeted with a smile
and a hand gesture
first ushering you in, then
offering a seat.
I wish I could say
that is a custom I still
embrace. But it’s not.
Feeling unprepared
makes me uneasy, and it
seeps right through my smile.
I hope to become
genuinely embracing
of a friendly knock –
to swing wide the door –
no thought of untidiness;
no eye on the time.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
Back in the days of house-to-house milk delivery, Uncle Ray had the greatest technology: a horse-driven, refrigerated milk cart. The horse knew what she was doing. She would take Uncle Ray to the first home on the route. He would grab enough ice-cold milk from the cart for the next several homes. She would walk the cart to the spot where he would need to grab more milk, and wait there for him. Then along came even newer and greater technology: refrigerated delivery trucks. Unfortunately, Uncle Ray was not permitted to turn down the newer technology. Not only did it make his job harder, but he lost a dear friend and coworker.
Often new knowhow’s
know how is negligible
or nearly inept.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
I’m an introvert.
I feel the need to exit
before I enter.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
“No more pennies,” we
were informed, and we could make
no cents of this change.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
(Hardly a poem, but it was fun to write!)
In the midst of war
(and there is always a war)
lies grim misjudging.
Fear of difference.
Insatiable greed for land.
Resolute loathing.
Dire false impressions.
Grave miscommunications.
And a common moon.
And beneath that moon,
in God’s perfect alignment,
is home to us all.
We’ve food and water
(if only we’d gladly share),
great plains and mountains,
celebrated seas
with unfathomably large
communal mammals.
With microscopic
yet astoundingly complex
sentient beings.
Sands God has numbered
stay in place as our home spins,
not spilling a drop
of the vast waters
that both adorn and provide,
beautify and quench.
And though we do not
tend to her needs (let alone
the needs of “others”),
God gave us this home
brilliantly placed beneath the
moon of His choosing,
populated with
children He chooses to love.
(There are no “others.”}
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
#5-7-5
Life is too short for
grudges, shame, ill-fitting shoes,
yesterday’s coffee.
#fivesevenfive
#lifeistooshort
© Marie Elena Good, 2021