The other morning, coming downstairs,
I sensed a tingling in the air - a freakish
early morning lightning streak perhaps.
But then I caught the scent
of buttered toast
and the sounds of kitchen merriment
and knew that I had visitors again.
The last time: Ernest with Scott
and Maxwell Perkins.
(Though they’d arrived late afternoon
in time for cocktails:
mojitos, with mint from the garden,
and gin rickeys.)
Such a fine talk we’d had, of Paris, love,
youth; adapting to aging -
was that possible? Of grace.
Now, I peered around the door jamb,
and I must confess to a jolt of surprise,
at finding, around the kitchen table,
solidly seated, Ganesh, Moses, The Buddha,
Jesus, and Muhammad Peace be Upon Him,
Believe me, they were instantly
recognizable.
I joined them, pausing only to grab
a jar of marmalade they might enjoy.
The conversation flowed freely
eloquent, as you’d expect, harmonious -
and also full of fun, loads of jokes
and giggling, all very silly.
They loved our binoculars
taking turns to watch woodpeckers,
chickadees and squirrels at the feeders,
and gasping in delighted unison
when a fox hurried past among the trees.
And then, before my husband came down,
before I knew it, they were gone.
But were they real? you ask.
Don’t you think you were probably dreaming?
Oh they were real. So real.
As real as the oracles.
As sure as eggs is eggs!
Monica Borrin Flint lives in Newtown. She volunteers as a naturalist at Bowman’s Hill Wildflower Preserve. For many years, she attended the late Professor Chris Bursk’s poetry workshops and is forever grateful for his poetry and his impact on the lives and writing of so many poets including hers.
Poet’s Corner is curated by Bucks County Poet Laureate Tom Mallouk and supported by a grant to the Bucks County Herald Foundation made possible by Marv and Dee Ann Woodall.
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