{pf: poetry peeps eavesdrop & overhear}

Welcome to Poetry Friday!

Poetry Peeps! You’re invited to this year’s capstone challenge for the month of December! Here’s the scoop: We’ll be in conversation with the theme of light, hope, and peace. No form requirements, and no length rules – just vibes, and a theme. Are you in? You’ll want to start early this month to craft your creation(s), because we’ll share our offerings on December 26th in a post and/or on social media with the tag #PoetryPals. Light and hope to you! We hope you’ll join us in closing out the year.

Friends, welcome to the week of gratitude – I hope you’re enjoying not just the food, but the chance to pause, think, read, and otherwise exist and make space for and process the events of a year rapidly receding into the rear view. There have been so many gut-wrenching challenges and losses this year, and for those struggling to finish strong, we see you; we see you, and we love you. ♥

As always, I look at our November challenge and think, “Right, we came up with an easy one for Thanksgiving week on purpose!” Aaaand, every year, I think, “Curses, foiled again.” Partially, this time was almost a fail because I suffer from a sort of internal insulation this time of year, as I walk around wearing hats over my hears, scarves that might touch my lobes and make movement… I don’t know, noisier or something… Coats and sweaters are noisy, okay? It’s harder to be nosy when you’re bundled up. And the nosiness is the point, here.

Knowing that I was going into the city this past weekend, I tried to be conscious of …other people. One of the weird things about how people act in cities, even small cities like San Francisco, is the studied non-observance that we wield in order to allow ourselves privacy in public. Of course, here it only goes so far – friends from New York who have relocated here sometimes say they miss the ability to avoid interactions and ignore people. People on the West Coast will make eye contact and smile (frequently they’ll even greet you, which low-key alarms many, tee hee). Our weekend plans included a restaurant and a light show, so I figured sitting and eating or sitting in the audience before the show would be the best place to listen in. …Of course, that was before we realized that carpooling and not taking the train meant we’d get stuck behind an accident on the bridge, miss our reservation, circle all four parking garages in a two block area for thirty-five minutes, and have to park a half mile from our location. 😈 Which also meant we’d have to hurry up California Street to Mason before we could get to the venue… Oh, wait. Allow me to show you:

That part of California St. is about a 24.8% grade, so it’s not that steep, but we took it to avoid Leavenworth, which in parts has a 31.8% grade… Honestly, it all becomes relative with the panting and perspiring after a point. We all agreed to take the hill at our own paces. My pace required stopping halfway to look down and marvel. And then a speedwalking couple passed me and I heard this priceless conversation:

“Why are we going this way? Did you take me this way because you were cold?” The man, in tones of disbelief.

“I’m not cold anymore,” his partner sang out, stomping along in three-inch stilettos, clad in a strappy, slinky, slip-dress, arms and legs swinging bare in the cool November air…

I started upwards again grinning. That’s going to be how I choose my routes everywhere from now on – by vibes and core temperature. Let’s take this hill because I’m cold, dear. It’ll be fun, dear.

In a more thoughtful moment, I wondered if I should take the whole “why did you bring me this way” as a message from the Universe that this moment required a more serious poem, but… nope. As I coughed for ten or twelve minutes at the top (bronchoconstriction in cold, dry air is a beast), we crossed the road, and climbed the stairs to the cathedral and joined the line. For distraction I made up a quickie haiku:

We arrive, aglow,
flushed with triumph, all bearing
air-kisses from the Bay

I realized later that poem doesn’t exactly count, since it doesn’t use the actual quotation – and it also doesn’t hold to our annual theme of “conversation” since I skipped the whole exchange. So – I came back with a triolet, which is a form that is delightful for a short poem built on a brief conversation. Also enjoy the images of California as looking down from the Fairmont (these are images taken from famous SF posters).

Running Late on California Street
Why, when there are other paths,
Why are we going this way?
(*wheeze* – Asthmatic aftermath)
What, were there no other paths?
Scowl forms as I do the math:
Be late? Or in disarray?
When there are no other paths,
Where are we going? This way.

My health nonsense has crept up on me to the point that I hadn’t realized how much I don’t go anywhere anymore, so this whole evening – traffic, missed dinner, weird parking and all – was a gift, and the poem embellishes the memory.

The rest of the Poetry Peeps are assembling! Laura’s poem is here. Mary Lee’s poem is here. Susan Thomsen was ready for this challenge in her honor – and her poem is here. Michelle K’s poem is here, and Jone’s poem is here. More Peeps will doubtless drop by as soon as the food coma wears off, so don’t forget to drop by later in the weekend for the rest of the roundup. Meanwhile, Buffy Silverman is our Poetry Friday hostess this week – thank you, Buffy for introducing your cousin! – so don’t forget to pop by and treat yourself to even more poetry.

Plenty of time this past year I’ve asked myself, “Why this way? Why couldn’t some other plan have worked out?” And honestly, many of us have felt perhaps pushed into narrow paths we could have gleefully done without. Here’s to making the best of the walkway we’re on – whether slogging through sloughs or inching up inclines, keep marching, friends. Progress is possible – if we keep it moving.

Walk on with hope in your heart – you are so well-loved.

Happy🍁Weekend.