Murisopsis’s poetry scavenger hunt prompt #12: Write a Jay’s Way or a poem using a bird metaphor. I’m keenly aware that discontent with one’s washing machine is small in the scheme of things, although I really miss my old front-loader (today’s larger models won’t fit in the space we have), and the lint I reference is a lot, and it just makes me want to go waaaahhhh.
a trough of despond
small sorrows
I can’t see beyond
I’m missing how things were–before covid, before my parents died, before a lot of other changes that have taken place in my/our world. Peace to our ♥s!
Remembrance of Things Past
Pathetic,
to miss a washing machine:
top loader, front loader, both get the clothes clean,
but the lint on the screen is more now,
and I don’t care how
there are loads
of abodes
where women handwash
and air-dry day in, day out. By gosh,
I’m tired of adjusting! There’s been too much change,
mixed feelings to rearrange.
I’m homesick.
Green Bowl
Yellow Bowl
Red Bowl
Blue
I don’t
forget
Dad bought
the set
at my
behest
per Mom’s
request
for bowls
with lips
to catch
the drips.
Though I’m
now grown
and long
since flown
they still
provide
a sense
of pride
because
(well done!)
I was
the one
the little bird
who told him.
Serendippity 