... late november
... calling on his great grandfather for a blessing he smoked whitefish in an old refrigerator
... pulled salty flesh from crisp skin
... the ways of the ancients ... the remembered taste of snow on pine
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Sometimes (often) I crave these ancient rituals. I imagine them bringing peace and harmony.
ReplyDeleteThey are the things that hold us together and are sorely missing in so much of our culture now.
DeleteA very nice poem Teresa. I believe it is important to continue family rituals. Now I'm hungry for some smoked whitefish and crackers.
ReplyDeleteOne of the last things I did for my mother was bring her a smoked whitefish spread from Morey's with crackers. I sat by her bed as we shared them ... a few years later, just down the hall, my father looked out the window at that bird feeder ...
DeleteSuch a nice thing to do Teresa. You put such feeling into your poems. I love watching birds feasting at my feeders. I truly feel responsible for their well-being during the Winter months. That's the least I can do to re-pay them for the joy they provide. People who are nice to birds and animals are usually nice to people. I know that time spent with your mother, sharing smoked whitefish and crackers, is
Deleteforever etched in your mind. Small deeds yield an endless bounty. I too spent numerous hours with both my mother and my father during
their final months. Somedays I would leave crying and other days I would leave laughing. Life is quite unpredictable I say. Be Well my Friend.
The bird feeder brings me endless joy, right outside my kitchen window.
DeleteI am so grateful for your sweet and thoughtful comments in the midst of a rather gloomy cold day ...