Interesting timing on Elaine's poem as when I speak to Jane this morning, I learned that her uncle died yesterday. She writes the poem below this morning.
Jane and I are back to our morning routine. It is odd to realize the book is done. I started a new file this morning for our writing. We begin again, and there is something promising in that, and sad. We say good-bye. There is death. Also, I think this deep fatigue that has hit me is a part of that. I am saying good-bye to cancer, chemo and pain and moving on, even as I know something new moves in, but this is a slack time place, and I am very tired.
Sharon Olds said this week that art comes because we are aware of death.
Jane's poem for today:
Did I notice as you left?
By ten o’clock we’d had coddled eggs and olive toast, strong coffee.
It was nearly summer
The air in early morning was cool around my ankles.
The tow headed grasses revealed the wind.
During the week you’d sharpened all the tools – the lopper, pruner mower.
We had a whole day ahead to tend the garden.
I cut back the freesias that had edged the wall in early spring.
You trimmed the iris leaves to disclose emerging lilies.
While I pulled a glut of foxtails that had grown in our disregard
I heard the newly sharpened mower snick through the lawn.
At noon we sat back with lemonade, admired our tidied garden.
When the call came,
I was sitting by the mulberry running my thumb
Across the pruner’s blade.
