Sunday, January 15, 2017

Carolyn van Langenberg — at the edge, always — #17 — 2017

at the edge, always - #17 – 2017

Dad chewed his tongue at the scrabble board
A word swirling swirling swirling at the edge of his conscious memory
A whole scrabble strategically placed taking up space
On the sunroom table inside the back door, a creaky door, no defence against the

Outside the flood broke the river banks and rolled across paddocks
Cows caught on rapidly disappearing islands of grass and trees
The bellow of panic echoing around the valley that crows fly
The sky sagging..... saturated grey..... pregnant with wet

But dad pursued his memory, searching for a word
To letter the board in seven squares lined up beside a word
Words stretched down the board words ran horizontally
His score for one that made four others
Equal to the total of all our scores. He didn't look

At the dictionary....wished......wistfully
He could be as successful off the scrabbleboard
Not seeking to remember his bank statements
Standing, with his hand on his chin,

By the beauty of a heron mirrored in still water at the paddock's edge


  1. I was sure I left a comment on this
    but now it seems to be gone
    and I'm damned if I can remember what it was

    anyhow I liked the way the scrabble paddock could take so much in

  2. This is so beautiful, Carolyn, I love it. Such an ending! But what's going on between the 1st and 2nd stanzas? :)


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