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Nov 05

Praise Be

I sing to the biscuits made with butter, may their crunch feed my girls.

I sing out of tune as I dance in my socks.

Praise be for the girl who tells me to stop with the singing—

my syllable sounds always out-of-tune.

 

I sing to the clack & hum, clinking keys on my keyboard

I sing in alliteration & consonance, how long it took me to learn those big words

Praise be to the students who made me hone my craft skills

on·o·mat·o·poe·ia always contains the word pee, thank God.

 

I sing to the warm blankets that cover up the hibernating teen

her room an apartment, her bed a safe refuge as she leaves girlhood behind.

Praise be to her profile, fine nose shaped large like mine, booming laugh

that fills the room, I love her brash self, solid & fair, mine & not-mine for sure.

 

I sing to the shared office, how my husband moved in-to my room-of-one’s-own

he sits beside me as we work out human companionship with ribbing & love.

Praise be to his fluffy hair that matches his mother’s do, slowly it grays & thins

still part black-as-night, he lends me starshape, says look up.

 

I sing to the extra hour given to us this day, daylight savings in early November

let’s rant about schedule interruption & move into dark-light-short-days

Praise be to winter making us as prisoners-to-ourselves, the cold rain slashes

what summer hides: our days have a limit on this earth, make haste and sing now.

-Nancy Schatz Alton

4 comments

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  1. Judith

    If you ever loose any of your works, I have them nicely tucked away until my computer decides to hide them from me in some place a will never find!!

    good seeing you last night. Too bad we didn’t get much of a chance to talk, but I was busy yaking witht the young ones—-who are getting too big too fast!

    Happy extra hour!

    1. Nancy Schatz Alton

      I’m glad you talked with the young ones who are no longer so young. Sigh.

  2. Ron.

    I don’t care how short the days get, there are NO circumstances under which I could share my clickety-clack keyboard workspace with My Beloved Sandra, regardless of how much I love her hair which, somewhat miraculously, remains ~exactly~ the same color it was when we first met a quarter-century ago (despite my own thinning and increasing grey).

    Still, I DO have much to be thankful for, much of which I should sing praises to. I will take yours as a prime example of how to do that.

    Meanwhile, if you have any of those crunchy biscuits left over, I’ll be glad to take them off your hands.

    I’ve gone on too long. I just meant to say: Great writing, this!!

    1. Nancy Schatz Alton

      Hi Ron! I love your comment! I never thought I’d share my space either, but I found myself offering it up last year, and my husband immediately moved his desk into my writing room. I’m often alone in it anyway, but I must admit I like that he moved right in immediately.

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