Holiday Poem from Mary Lou Meyers & Art by Linda Garfield

Thanx to my classmate Mary Lou for all her wonderful poetry and to local artist Linda Garfield for her art, whose message seems to match Mary Lou’s poem, quite by accident!
Float Your Boat
Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanza
may seem lack-luster this year,
devoid of glitter and the usual cheer,
with dreams tarnished by Covid-19.
Shopping for gifts has become an unnecessary
hazard to your health, what you do is online,
but held to a minimum to stretch your budget
without any holiday bonuses in sight.
Losing its glitz and glamor, the Rockefeller tree
seems undernourished as though disease has tainted it.
Even Longwood Gardens, the foremost display garden
in the world must observe caution in the holiday rush
with circuitous routes in and out of the Conservatory
and in-between, round circles which insist six feet between.
Still they have created a kind of perfection
which cannot be reached by this weary world
with trees magnified in lights and show-stopping ornaments
and the ones crafted by Nature’s own sculptor.
This seems such a superficial glaze this season,
when everyone was once greeting in overabundance.
Christmas was once an accomplished art
which lifts the spirit of the heart,
and rewards both the Receiver and the Giver.  
There are so many dead ends now,
cut off from crowd-pleasing activities,
ordering on line, avoiding the seasonal rush,
for some might still bargain and bluff for the right stuff
even though they’re putting their life on the line.
Why not recapture the lost Art Form
of Elliot Page <gifts@stand.earth
writing the Annual Christmas Letter.
Fill the air with a kind of cheer which transfigures
the ones, who may be lost in the numbing
atmosphere and fear a kind of mental break-down.
Maybe in the End, it’s the simplest things
that matter most as we begin a New Year of 2021.
I am reminded of a ritual we performed as children
on New Year’s Day after the let down of the Christmas holiday.
In a more subdued tone, we took the half-shells of walnuts,
and filling the tub, placed a lighted candle in each.
Still under the spell, we attached a Wish to the mast.
In the darkened room, we watched the candles flicker
while waves splashed and the riptides flooded
the plucky little boats with their brave candle masts.
Those who made it to the other side,
the fervent ones which never brushed aside their Will Power,
never to be impeded by Time or Tide,
they were lifted by a giant Hand
and made safe and secure on the Promised Land.
Have a Safe Holiday Season

Mother: A Poem by Mary Lou Meyers

My classmate, Mary Lou, has been terrifically prolific during this difficult time. Here’s one for Sunday, Mother’s Day. Even or especially now is the time to honor loved ones! I have interspersed photos from my neighborhood, where azaleas (and other flowers ) are in bloom. Their short burst of color is a welcome sight when my husband and I take a walk!
Mother
You have a scrap book of memories inside you.
Everything you turn your head to,
to guide you.
When you’re feeling out of sorts,
the action you resort to,
over the rough spots with your children in tow,
wherever you go, somehow you know what to do.
She never ran rough shod over you,
a blessing to have children,
you feel her nudge to safely dodge
the temperamental flare up,
she would stare you down.
Memories float virtually undisturbed
like dust mites,
and settle in the corner of your mind’s eye.
A Mother lifts the spirit of awareness
to a higher realm of consciousness.
In time of trouble, you resort
to her tried and true wisdom, of course,
knowing what to do subliminally.  
The pain to see you grow up and fly the nest,
she did the best thing she could,
Love, laughter, and happily ever after
when she became your out-of-town friend.
Mother awakened our senses to birdsong,
to purity of motive no matter loss or gain.
We couldn’t go wrong with a drive to right the wrongs.
The song we must carry life long
when her eyes sought us out,
not just for enterprise,
but the awakening of enlightenment inside.
Even if violets were strewn across her room
to brighten her life, she still had to pick up the wilted blooms;
or if you burned toast making the most of her special day
and stayed in bed, only to clean up afterward.
The tulips displayed on her tray announced
how close you were together once,
like birds of a feather, inseparable but ever-present
she remains in your life.
She indulged in straight talk,
not talking around the bush,
when she met us eye to eye,
she would discover if there was
any lie in it.
Exemplified the best when put to the test,
but asked for so little if you recall,
she forgave you for your slights
or when you failed to call.
This Mother’s Day may be different,
but the sentiments are the same.
No one would blame you
from refraining from hugging and kissing,
for now you must sacrifice to keep her safe
from the corona virus
with your social distancing.
But she is the Voice of Reason, 
now when the world seems awry,
trying to figure out the whys and wherefores
of corona virus, and exact a vaccine, a potential cures.
Workers laid off, routines disturbed,
but it’s happened before in her life, 
so she emotes a calming voice 
raised above the fray:
we will come back full force 
without dreams diminished or lost!
Addendum
Here we are, Mother and Daughter housed together,
thinking how we can celebrate Mother’s Day,
(although it’s everyday for me, she does my shopping,
so I don’t need to expose myself to the rampant disease.)
Not the usual favorite restaurant for a sit-down menu.
The ban is not lifted today, simply take-out,
but wonder if it will be safe as we wonder about everything now;
pick our way through the few opened places
not shuttered down till when?
Longwood, where she worked is closed, but parks are opening
with wild flowers, not on display
but here and there along the pathway,
and once in awhile, a bower of blooms for a special day.
The best thing is your Daughter can name them all,
Latin and everyday making it an enchanted trip
of enlightenment for you.
(Notice how the daffodils begin to lose their blooms
just as the azaleas come into bloom? No coincidence;
Mother Nature at work! es)
From Mary Lou: I have written poems to both describe the impact of Covid 19 as well

as try to elevate the mood of those I send my E-Mail Poems to.

Mary Lou is the author of Whisperings Along the Octoraro  Who Speaks for Them?  Floating Free
and The Case of the Missing Silver Star.
Copyright ©2022 Ellen Sue Spicer-Jacobson. | Website by Parrish Digital.