New Seasons Seasonings
They say my dad was salty
So appropriate as his name is Morton.
Was it because he was in the Navy,
But never sailed?
He was a sweet man,
Sugary with his comic
Antics.
Anything to get a laugh.
My mom with her precise decisions,
The queen of elegance
Had a sharpness, peppery
But not hot.
Her personality ran with society.
Glazed frosting that
Hid her funny bone and her sharp tongue.
I’d say she was more like paprika,
Colorful with no bitterness.
Seasons change.
As they aged their hair disappeared
Their svelte bodies returned
To their beginnings.
A roundness, open-eyed
Wonder of lost agility.
Knowing and forgetting
Loveable
I’m in a new season.
Remnants of wildness
Assigned to travel.
At home I plug along
Filling holes with
Adding spice to grandkids’ life.
I’m in between the autumn,
Not inside of winter.
I have a sweet joy in growing
As if spring and summer
Were eternal.
You can send your comments to me at http://www.abberolnick.com. I’d love to hear your thoughts.
