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  Jul 2016 Mary Winslow
katie
we didn't
know we wrote
          our names
   into snow,
scrolled
our
         soul into
soil,
our toil invisible
on
         maps but
held
as heavy as
breath
         in cold air,
our love, death
birth, despair
        who we
were written
indelibly
into this
               earth
  Jul 2016 Mary Winslow
Jeff Stier
When the heart stirs
the feet soon follow
or so it is with me
born to be a dancer

Lithe and compact
fearless in motion
a Baryshnikov of the living room
a Nureyev in the night

When my daughter
was new born
seventeen sweet years ago
I would hold her close
dance her through the whole house
sing to her
tell her
I'll love you forever and ever
no matter what
promise her everything
it was in my power to give

Here
in my dotage
my dancing embarrasses her
my rude manners
outrage her at times
No matter

I thrill when
I hear her sing
weep
when I see her onstage
grin like God's fool
when I meet her at
the backstage door.

This tribute
and these poor lines
are humbly offered
by a man who is blessed
a man who wakes up every day
saying thanks
a father proud
a retired musician
(more or less)
whose child
without urging
took up the mantle
and carried it further
than dad ever could.
  Jul 2016 Mary Winslow
Valsa George
Let me be,
As God intended me to be:
Neither a wicked elf,
Nor a fairy godmother,
Never a demon,
Nor an angel,
But a true woman,
Oh! No, not the ‘Phenomenal Woman’
Of Maya Angelou,
Drawing a hive of honey bees round
‘With the span of my hips
Or the stride of my steps’
But,
One with a loving heart,
Calm and caring
Though at times touchy and itchy

A gracious host and a helpful neighbor
Able to stand in my own light
And lessen the darkness of the night

An abiding spouse
In whom my man can see
An ocean of love in my dewy eyes
And feel the steady warmth of my grip
When the seas of life grow stormy,

For my children, an adorable mother
In whom they can confide,
Their doubt, despair or delight
A counselor, a friend and guide
With the balm to heal their wounds
Touch and move their spirits
And show them the miracle of love

Piecing together these different roles
Let me, into a close knit texture weave
The fabric of my life!
Like the interlacing threads
Of a great tapestry!

In a way, is not living the art of quilting
Bringing out unique patterns
Of exquisite beauty and delight
From the scraps thrown in our way!
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