companions
first, a fall—
he helps her
with tenderness
next
surgeon’s knife
she aids him
with love
see with fresh eyes
what soft actions
are needed—
carry groceries
for a stranger
or pick up meds
for a friend
now three quarters
of a century old
it seems clear
Ram Dass was right
with love
we are walking
each other home
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
the good fortune of old age
note to self
now past three-quarters
of a century, you can
claim old—so many
reasons to grouse
stiff hands, thinning hair
name retrieval fades
common nouns wander off
we’re left with the grace
of verbs—their kindly
flow—they speak of
roaming or ambling or
coasting through air—
they mimic inevitable
change—how pupa
reforms into butterfly
we don’t know what’s
coming except that it is—
float on those verbs
allow them to ferry
you away, teach you
to let go—the good
fortune of old age
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
fall into astonishment
note to self
as you age into an
old woman, bowed
with wizened skin
and spiky hair, the
path ahead divides—
you can sink toward
despair or fall into
astonishment
choose awe!
notice it far and near
your son’s wild curls
lined a raven’s nest
soft for the baby birds
a dule of doves
mill the soil for seed
the mare knows to
lick her newborn foal—
marvels everywhere
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
the heart of the matter 