Writer. Educator. Artist.
A Week of-arlene s bice
Writing and reading
slip in brief mealtimes
lots of internet connection
keeps me touching the world
life, past and maybe future
toss in an occasional social visit
a weekly in-person study group
a few zooms for those faraway
life at present, the constant is
writing and reading
21 Questions- arlene s bice
As a child always the questions posed
who, what, where, when, how, and why
always, why
curious always to know
Who said so?
What is elbow grease?
Where did this come from?
When did it happen?
How do I know it is true?
Why?
always, why
the answer is on the bookshelf
or in the internet.
No Phone Needed-arlene s bice
Easy to do
no phone needed
my connections are
from a different source.
We were more than 300 miles north of Niagara Falls, Canada, leaving Sudbury. I suggested that we continued driving north just to see what was there. For five and a half hours, the road took us far north then southwest. We saw no one and no sign of anyone except for several mail boxes lined along the road. It was miles and miles and miles before we saw the next line of mailboxes. Forests were all around with occasional peeks of sun-sparkled water glistening through the trees.
The first sign of people was the town of Chapleau. We were starving and spotted the only café on the block-long main street. The sign said Sportsman Hotel and Dining Room. Nothing fancy.
People on the street stopped and stared at us when we got out of the car and watched us walk inside. It was a little unnerving. Again, inside each person stopped what they were doing and looked at us. We both ignored it, smiled, and sat at a formica top table with chrome legs. The sparse interior reminded me of an old 1920s kitchen; well-worn but serviceable. It match-ed the exterior façade. No one smiled in greeting including our waitress. She was an older woman who looked like her feet hurt. The food offered was plain meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and string beans. When truly hungry basic is more than enough. It was delicious.
Everyone continued to stare at us as we were leaving. They seemed to want to ask what we were doing there! No one said a word. We thought they were Native Canadians. No one spoke. No one was friendly. There were no open smiling faces. No one was rude either. It was a weird experience I didn’t expect as a seasoned traveler.
Textiles – arlene s bice
Mother Said
“drapes and carpet dress the room”
sometimes more
sometimes comfort
sometimes protection
heavyweight drapes keep out
distracting light
cold drafts
peeking eyes
bazaar area carpet
warms toes
softens step
dulls sound.
A Favorite Song-arlene s bice
There are too many
in a long life truly lived,
to choose only one
when each has its own
memory, treasured
impossible to write new
while listening to the old
that keeps pulling me back
into the past, to re-live
with tenderness.
Edgar Allan Poe & Me-arlene s bice (with more apologies)
It was many and many a year ago,
in an ancient village of Wales
That a man there lived whom you may know
and I knew as well as thee
And this man he lived with no other thought
Than to read and write along with me.
I was a child and he was a child,
In that ancient village town
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and this man of my dreams;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
we read and we wrote, this man and me.
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of this man and the time we spent;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of my loved one so close to me;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my eternal love, a love that never died,
In his sepulchre there in that town,
In his tomb where he lays in that town.
After the Rain -arlene s bice
with the earth washed clean
dirt and debris sent away
time to begin anew
peppermint refreshed air
scents released as I walk
a solo wooded path
leaves still dripping
softly reminding me
the storm has spent
peace uncovered.
