Friday, February 7, 2014

Pilgrimage to the Corner Store (or Winter Ode to Joy)

The first yellow crocuses smiled up at me this bright February morning in Georgia.  I feel a twinge of survivors guilt for all my friends and family braving the cold and snow up North.  Here's a poem I wrote in Philadelphia in February 2010 while seven months pregnant with baby four.  Our sink was full of dishes, two feet of snow covered the ground and there was a blizzard outside.  My husband could have gone to the corner store to buy the dish soap; but I needed desperately to get out of our messy child filled home.  I know that it is possible to wash dishes without dish soap.  But oh, for a few moments alone and for that squeaky clean gleam, I was willing to do anything.  So, I left them at home to embark on foot, the only way to go. 



Pilgrimage to the Corner Store (or Winter Ode to Joy)

Gleaming bottle on the shelf
A remedy to heal myself
Ultra concentrated Joy
One yellow lemon scented squirt
is all I need to banish dirt
or rather dried and crusting grits
milky pools and bacon bits

I clutch and pay and leave the store
to face the snow outside the door

The two block walk feels like a mile
At myself I have to smile
Huddled waddling
through knee deep snow
that has not ceased to fall and blow
to frost my glasses, freeze my nose
                as steadily I trudge toward  home
On my snowy path I plod
and utter silent thanks to God
who knows and grants his children’s wishes
I now have soap to wash the dishes