I’m cleaning out my mother’s house. Everything that isn’t throw away or given away has to come back here. (There are boxes I’m to ship to my brother in Seattle.)
I’m seeing again books I described in the high school diary. Newflash is one I didn’t mention. It’s the end-of-class anthology for the poetry workshop. The copy I’m looking at was Mom’s. She attended a couple class meetings and wrote a couple poems. Here’s one:
Huskies howling, wailing,
Piercing the sharp, clear Arctic blue.
Ice floes smashing, crashing,
Roaring through the midnight freeze.
Northern lights dancing twirling
Flipping, twisting with the lightning speed.
Leaving the eye dazzled in awe.
-- Helen Ingersoll