February 2, 2011

Fibonacci Poem365 . 33 The Calendar

The Calendar

1    Today/
1    ends/
2    the Chinese/
3    Year of the/
5    Tiger.  Tomorrow begins the Year/
8    of the Rabbit. Yesterday began my months of/
13   dis-ease:
            February 1:  my late husband's -- Fred's -- birthday (1935)
            February 6:  my parents' anniversary (1943)
21        February 17:  my father's death (2010)
            March 8:  my sister's death (2003)
            March 28 through April 3:  my late husband's coma (2000)
34        April 4, 12:15 A. M.:  my late husband's death (2000)
             April 14:  my breast cancer surgery (2010).
        I intend not to make plans but to continue my steady walk, one foot in front of the
55     other; to live these months free of dread, not cringing at the thought of the next anniversary; to live in the ongoing now, the immediate here; to print a morning checklist:  take Synthroid; walk dogs; take shower; drink coffee; walk dogs; take medications; eat breakfast before noon; walk dogs.
         With those things resolved, I can do a days' work:
89    four hours per poem; four hours of fiber art; two hours of collage; time to correspond; time to quilt; to sleep my ten-to-twelve hours (as doctors recommend). Spliced amongst those tasks are buying, paying, laundering, scrubbing, essential costs of survival.
          All the while, I shall breathe memory in, sadness out; and overlay both inhale and exhale with love.  Time will tock away, and with the end of the Year of the (ferocious) Tiger, the Year of the Rabbit will begin, a time to live gently, a time to remain alert.

No comments: