Love Poem
I have the most wonderful husband,
He is handsome, funny, honest,
Totally dedicated to me, it is all about me.
We both had a difficult parent, my father, his mother.
This bonded us, we are kinder to each other because of this hurt.
I am Lucy to his Desi,
Laurel to his Hardy
This silliness is what makes us so happy together
Our humor is always there
I am the extrovert to his introvert,
He loves sports and war movies,
I love ballet, the arts, and Fred Astaire
Sure there have been not good times,
I ignore these.
After all —- we have been together for 50 years
For 25 years, we rarely saw each other,
His long work hours, my busy volunteer work
But we always had things we shared,
Tennis, traveling and now playing bridge
Is this the key or was I just a lucky duck.
I fear losing him like so many of us have lost
dear family and even pets. So I grab hold of him and try to enjoy
Our every minute.
Maybe I will never say goodbye and leave that to him.
Happiness is elusive, we must hang on to every moment
It is all so short and fleeting.
.
Witches
“I envy the tireless intimacy of women’s friendship, its lastingness, and its unbendable strength.”
― Pat Conroy, A Lowcountry Heart: Reflections on a Writing Life
My southern ancestors lived in the low country
and when I am there I feel their souls flitting through
the limbs of the hushed live oaks, whispering their stories
The oaks are the old ladies of the forest, ancient, craggy, furrowed, hundreds, even thousands of years old. They emanate tiny edible acorns nourishing the wild life. The hanging moss drops from the branches and is filmy, flowing in the breeze like bridal veils.
Maybe these damselles gossip through some medium we don’t even know about.
Do they hold secrets we wish we knew?
Do they observe quietly and communicate with each other?
I wonder what they think about our souls – maybe through vibrations,
soft breezes, and lightning streaking through the air.
This glorious world is dark and moody with wisps of sun or moonlight peaking through the forest, alligators stealthily walk through the jungle-like vegetation.
Owls hoot looking for prey.
The air is heavy with scents that are of decay and salt spray, and occasionally a waft of a strong perfumed flower.
Spiders, snakes, both lethal or good hide, and blend in with the trees and the forest floor.
This underworld is heavy, lush and dense, and surrounds us.
It is a soft, warm place with dangers lurking but the surrounding beauty is hauntingly wonderful.
It makes me think of the past and death in a beautiful way
When I die, this would be my heaven and I would be free of all the fears that lurk in the living.
I would join the coven, and rest and watch the world.
© Jan Hudson
The author is an English Literature major from Towson University. She worked in fundraising and public relations. After retiring she did volunteer work, VP of Baltimore County Library Foundation, President of the Hampton Improvement Association plus being on the boards of a ballet company, Historic Towson and a docent at Hampton Historic Site. She is currently studying poetry with Brenda Baer at Osher.
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