Under the vast oak she croons
to three other crones
clustered in shade
whose edge creeps close
each time they settle
in their lawn chairs.

From this chosen remove
they treasure end-of-summer sun.
Through wrinkled skin
they absorb Karen’s song,
a bluesy piece that floats
sadly on and on

     till it becomes a shawl
     that can be gathered up,
     carried home and arranged
     around the shoulders
     in winter.

The sky quickens this
transformation, September blue
being quintessential.
When light seeps through
at this angle, it seems to hold
personal intentions.

 

 

Marjorie Power grew up in the Northeast and has spent her adult life in the Northwest. She is married with six grandchildren. Her poetry appears in six chapbooks and one full length collection, all from small presses. Her most recent collection, Flying on One Wing, is in a third printing. Around 400 of her poems appear in journals and anthologies: The Dos Passos Review, The Cape Rock, The Random House Treasury of Light Verse and others.