So Much Depends Upon

Miss you, Alice.  Everyday.

Alice hated having her picture taken.  You can see the discomfort in her face, but she stood still for me because I asked her to, this time.

Alice loved going for walks at "Betsy's Field" with John on Sundays.  They would leave me at home and go off and do their thing.  I went with them on this day though.  Two years ago.

"Betsy's Field" is a hillside clearing that overlooks the entrance to Somes Sound and across to the Northeast Harbor shore.  I don't know if anyone else calls it "Betsy's Field", but we do because we know Betsy, and it's her field.  Alice lost herself in the scents, the tide pools, the rodents, and crunchy shoreline tidbits - and running and running, herding seagulls - every once in a while lifting her head to locate John, keeping him close.  "Betsy's Field", for both of them, was a Sunday kind of place to find peace and confirmation of all that is beautiful in the world.   

   

William Carlos Williams inspired me to write a poem for Alice, who died a year ago.  

                                                                    so much depends

                                                                    upon

                                                                    Alice's greeting

                                     

                                                                    her nose between door

                                                                    and frame

                                                                           

                                                                    then

                                                                    her smiling face

                                                                    and eyes

                                                                                                        

                                                                    paw reaching, a kiss

                                                                    a confirmation

                                                          

                                                                    oh, happy day

                                                                    you're home!  

                                                                                         - spm

                                                                            (based on WCW's "The Red Wheelbarrow")

                                                          

                                                                           

Stopping by Somes Sound

                    Somes Sound Taken from the Somesville Road, James Emery, 1886                                                         Photo, S. Maxwell                      

         
         

March 24, 2012,  Mount Desert Island

Every day I drive by this view

Every day for 12 years

I've driven past sipping coffee, planning my day

the slow poke in front of me slowing me down from rushing my day

But today

I drive slowly and

stop

and say, “. . . wait a minute . . . ”

I park the car

get out

and walk a few feet into the field

a little to the left, a little to the right

up, down

Finally, “This is the spot.”

I look.  I think, “Amazing . . . .”

​

What is amazing, really, and what is so true, and what is so cliche is how I rush, 

take things for granted, donʼt stop and smell the roses, 

and all of that. 

I miss time spent with so much that is beautiful around me.

Iʼm too often whizzing by.

But today 
I chose to stop.

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