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Guest Poet Jean Moore

Her Window at Six a.m.

She sits on the couch at six
to look through a frosted pane
of glass. Her window to life
outside of herself. The sky
not bright but its rays shine warm
on her tired hands that brushed,
for nearly an hour, her soft,
silver-streaked hair, now thin.

Light snow outside has kicked up.

A neighbor slips as he jaunts
to the mailbox stand. She loves
remembering her Ed,
of thirty-six years plus.
His arthritic hips and knees
with a cane he would walk
to collect the Christmas cards.
His pain, he'd just ignore
as he returned "hobbled"
to share greetings with her.

Winter Sparrows chirp loud
as if they had deduced
what it was she was thinking --
her memories of life.
She's happy, fulfilled, content,
and she knows this scene, it will
repeat tomorrow at
her window. She will sit
and gaze in observance
of the past that used to be.

January, 2001

Jean Moore's Questions:

I am having problems with the lines in the second stanza "His arthritic hips and knees/ with a cane he would walk." It doesn't sound natural to me. Any suggestions?

Does the poem capture a moment in time that I am trying to portray?

Any other thoughts or suggestions you have would be appreciated.

Autumn's Approach

As I follow a path,
the width of it becomes
narrow, winding
into a grove
of Aspen trees.
Their white skins seem
washed as if they
had been bleached in
that way, an intent
to paint in black,
strokes that climb with
a grace toward
the sky. The lull
all around is felt
by the softened chirp
of a single small
bird, what kind I
took no notice
of but instead
let shimmering leaves
of green, skim my
fingertips like
the pine odors
that skip from the edge
of the grove, all the
way in on the air
that moves the leaves
whispers over
me, its soul in
the Aspen leaves
too soon to turn
to its sullen gold.

January, 2001

Jean Moore's Questions:

How does this poem make you feel?

Does it get your senses involved?

Are there unnessessary words in the poem? Just there to make the meter fit?

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