Poetry – Page 2 – Valerie's Voice

One Little Box

I was deep cleaning our bedroom closet recently and dusted off “a special box” on the top shelf. I wrote a poem about this box eight years ago. A few details have changed since then…the old Gateway Computer box has been placed inside a slightly larger fabric box for additional room, because now this fabric box contains 41 years of calendars and recorded history. I have shared this poem before, but I’ll share it again.

The original Gateway computer box, inside a larger fabric box.

One Little Box

In the bedroom closet upstairs, tucked away on the top shelf, is a box.

It’s an old Gateway computer box with the Holstein cow pattern, and it’s only about 14” X 18” and 6” deep.

It doesn’t take up much space, this one little box, but, if you open it up, out pops one great, big surprise! Thirty-three years of calendars, thirty-three years of life, thirty-three years of recorded history from one small family. It contains years of appointments, church activities, school and sports activities, vacation schedules, birthdays, anniversaries, deaths, dinners, all kinds of celebrations….

It reminds me of a Jack-In-The-Box. Each year it springs open, I add another calendar, force close the lid as it bursts with memories, and I put it away for safe keeping.

This one little box holds one big treasure.

And it’s amazing how little space this box takes, upstairs, tucked away on the top shelf of the bedroom closet.

The new fabric box that holds the original Gateway box
and additional calendars.

Cross-Country Skiing

We were able to get out cross-country skiing at the Carleton Arboretum a couple of times this past week. It is one positive for all the snow that has fallen this winter.

The white, pristine snow blankets the ground and frosts the brown tree trunks. Water flows through open spaces in the river, the trail recently groomed for skiing, and the temperatures reasonable, even nice, to be able to be outside and enjoy this tough Minnesota winter.

Open water on the river that runs through the arboretum.

Yesterday gentle snowflakes fell during our time on the trail. Quiet beauty surrounded us. It was peaceful. It is always peaceful at the arb. It is sometimes hard to remember downtown is within a mile or two. We are fortunate to have this beautiful, wooded arboretum so near and accessible.

Several years ago I wrote a poem while skiing at the arb and I thought of it again this week.

Cross-Country Skiing
 
Arms swinging
Poles digging
Jacket swishing
Legs trekking
Skis gliding
 
River Flowing
Snow falling
Birds singing
Peace ringing
Prayer bringing

The contrast of dark and light, white snow…brown tree trunks…gray water, is striking, but there can be color in winter. We saw this sunset the night before our last snow fall.

The sun setting over snow covered fields one evening while driving out of town.

Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver, an American poet, died yesterday at age 83. I have not read a lot of poetry. Some works I find difficult to understand, but there are many poems by Mary Oliver that I do like. I plan to reread her works. In fact, when I was looking online for information about her, I noticed one site suggested reading a poem a day by Mary Oliver. I may try that.

In the last few years I have been engaged in more poetry, especially through writings of two different friends. Just last week I went to my first poetry reading, where one of the above mentioned friends read her work, along with other poets. It was an enjoyable and enriching experience. And at times, I have dabbled in writing my own poetry.

In honor of Mary Oliver here is one poem always makes me smile (link here). It is from her book A Thousand Mornings.

“Foolishness? No, It’s Not.

Sometimes I spend all day trying to count the leaves on a single tree. To do this I have to climb branch by branch and write down the numbers in a little book. So I suppose, from their point of view, it’s reasonable that my friends say: what foolishness! She’s got her head in the clouds again.

But it’s not. Of course I have to give up, but by then I’m half crazy with the wonder of it — the abundance of the leaves, the quietness of the branches, the hopelessness of my effort. And I am in that delicious and important place, roaring with laughter, full of earth-praise.”
― Mary Oliver, A Thousand Mornings