caumsett november

In the morning the road is wet.
I lie in bed and listen.
It is early Saturday morning.
I can indulge my thoughts.

I am warm under the covers.
It is good to have this quiet time.
The words come to me to share with you.
You are here with me as I type.

We two people do not know the future
But we hope we are in it together.
We are so good to each other.
We would enjoy having each other.

…

Sunday morning I wake up feeling so real
So solid on your firm mattress.
Our bond is strong like a tree.
We have roots and branches together.

It delights me to go on a drive with you
Heading to some nature place to explore
Talking with you about relationships
Hearing the kindness in your voice.

You don’t talk about emotions much
But I see you have exceptional emotional intelligence.
You have learned to accept our life changes
And move with them, transforming yourself.

two seniors

Passing the sign announcing events for seniors
At first I think it is about you, the high school senior.
In a moment I realize it is for my age group
Though it is not my identity.

I am old enough for AARP membership.
I am even old enough to collect social security.
That’s not my life. I’m not done working.
I am older but not old yet.

It pleases me that you have become a senior
And I am still here for you.
I was afraid you might lose me very young
Being older when you were born.

I’m going to continue working and providing.
It’s good for me and good for you.
Our stories are unfolding still.
You will find your way in the world.

I will be happy in your choices.
You are a good person.
And I have a new chapter beginning.
You may be happy for me, too.

pumpkin road

I live by a turn in the road.
I like it here.
It comforts me to hear the tire noise below.
The cars go by one by one.

The bus goes by on schedule
Keeping time with its low diesel thrum.
Tractor trailers backing off their staccato beat
Announce themselves slowing for the turn.

Flashing lights and emergency squawks
Punctuate now and then.
This place is full of people
I hear but don’t see.

…

The road sounds are a reminder
That I live among people,
That we live together, we millions.
We make our lives possible for each other.

Everything I need on a daily basis
Is but a short walk from my door.
Yet I take great pleasure in my freedom
To drive wherever whenever I want.

I love driving under the canopy of trees
Sunlight flickering.
I love the panoramic views
Coming up over the hill crest.

…

Talking on the telephone is also hearing
Without seeing, but interactive.
Tonight you call me at our appointed time
And I delight in your voice.

You tell me the story of your day
The people and problems and solutions at work
As your pumpkin soup cools.
I imagine the smell.

I tell you of the sweet Elizabethan music
I’ve been listening to today.
Tomorrow I’ll drive to your place
We’ll eat that soup together.

shore path sunday hike

We are scuffing our way through the leaves
Walking the old carriage road path undulating through the woods
Wedged between the base of the cliff and the river.
All our senses take in the place in this moment.

There is little talking as we walk.
We are immersed in the experience.
The sights and sounds and smells are beautiful.
We hold hands communicating a shared pleasure.

Few people come here even on this lovely day.
We find it is mostly a favorite place for older couples
Smiling and greeting a friendly hello as we pass each other.
Something there is that calls us here.

We are savoring the last lingering leaves of summer.
We embrace the exquisite delicate patterns of decay and renewal.
Our lives are in this season, too.
There is much to cherish and enjoy.

The path descends to the shore rounding the hook.
The palisades loom over us above the expanse of the estuary.
The welcome sun warms us as we stop for our scenic picnic lunch.
Then we turn and retrace our steps back to our weekday lives.