The Long View

One of the joys of growing old(er) is seeing a life from the virtual start and following the story arc along the way. It truly is the long view, a perspective you simply cannot claim, I feel, until you are over sixty years of age. Your adult memory may be reliable when their infant memory is a blank slate. I love how my older sister, nine years my senior, has memories of getting the news over the phone of my birth. (This was in the days when Dads were banished to the waiting room or were at home watching the children that had already been hatched.) But it is also highly instructive about how we author our own stories from the point of view of narrators other than ourselves.

Poetry practice is influenced by this long view.

The Long View

In the morning
she still perches on the end of the bed
all chatty and lively
I nod and remember
the bounding in
on Christmas Day
fourteen going on four.

It's not all
Ground Hog Day
like it is
for most grown ups
even ones like her
now everyday
never the same old
same old

But a day
which presents itself
as a gift.


Copyright © 2019 Bee Smith. All rights reserved.

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