who had to stand on tip toe
at the edge of the podium
and still people could only see
blonde hair (dyed) and the edge of her
wire glasses.
but her voice
easily projected
to the back of the hall you
were surprised
she was not
taller.
hands gnarled
from years in the soil
stooped the slightest bit
from the bedsides
of child birthing
and the heads
of desks and meetings she
meant business:
mortgage paid
bills neatly sorted
taxes done early.
forward planning:
the freezer stocked with
homemade sauces, pies
and handpicked blackberries.
Tulips? Planted!
The bright white lines
on the garden steps appeared
after that fall
and the broken tooth.
the orange buttons
on the kitchen gadgets
came after
the gas was left on.
today she
found the new recipe i left on the counter
voice rushed and tight she asked
me to read to her the ingredients
before turning away into a corner;
neither of us saying
it was anything other than normal.
she said,those seeds?
looking through her spices:
she had no coriander seeds
would ground coriander do?
in the conservatory
pressed against the window
the yellow flowers are
wilting
against the unusually bright
autumn sun.
ground too fine
coriander seeds
blur
into dust.
the night frosts:
as if we needed reminding.
winter is
quickly
coming.
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