Published Poems "A Meal of Manners" and "Let Your Horses Run Away"

A Meal of Manners  rosemaryfrances,org

At the end of my marriage, four

children stood in a wreath,

a canopy drawn over a grave,

the hills rolling a green shell.

The afternoon shadows climbed

the latticework with fair decision,

and I trudged in holocaust

and tumbleweeds on the ground.

A shallow grave exposes

the blight, the wind of wax

and candle glow in a meal

and manners spread for all.

A scarf hangs loosely on the line,

once stiff with errant grief,

it spiders from the folds,

gloves worn linen white.

In one turn of the clock, the hands

part in the way a key

catches in the lock, and a house

trims Christmas inside.

I sleep beneath the shallows

where memory ripples-

where daffodils rise in stands,

and early balsam bursts.

Let Your Horses Run Away 

Sunday mornings, my mother 
clattered in the kitchen, the scent 
of blueberry pancakes and sausages 
bubbling the stairs and I played 
“button-button” with my father 
in a tent pitched with bedcovers. 
Buttons not on shirts or sweaters 
but my chest, belly, and legs. 

My father would say it’s smaller 
than a Buffalo nickel and I would guess 
at it. The Sunday before Easter 
he slipped one inside another, 
and the room grew dark

like the sacks of grain slumped 
behind the barn when I had gone  
to the farm for raw milk and eggs. 

I heard my mother calling, 
so I turned with the foal in my arms 
and spread her on the dirt and hay. 
She whinnied and I stroked her back, 
her wobbly legs. I don’t know 
how long we lay in the dark
her eyes closed to the glow 

of lamplight, the sun piercing her
and me, listening to the hardwood 
down the hall propped-up 
and dog-eared. Perhaps 

pom-pom-pull-away

smuggles discarded 
ice skates, horses, giggles. I’ve forgotten.

Spain

For the next two weeks I will be in Spain.  I don't know Spanish, but am trying to learn a few words.

Maybe some of you have been to Spain. It is beautiful here and much warmer. They grow all kinds of fruit and olives and of course, have many vineyards.

my website: rosemaryfrances.org

Send me an email, I love to hear about family challenges, good and difficult.

Palmer Amaranth

Palmer Amaranth (Amaranthus Palmeri)

When I was young, our yard was filled with pigweed. And similar to uninvited challenges that seem to crop up in our personal lives, pigweed goes by many names, and has many variations: Palmer's amaranth or carelessweeds or Amaranthus palmeri, and more. The plain green plants or weeds are skilled at finding homes in uninvited places, often killing whole fields nurtured by gardeners and farmers. 
Do you have a backyard full of pigweed or acres of uninvited challenges?
Read the informative article about pigweed.
And share your story.



http://articles.extension.org/pages/65209/palmer-amaranth-amaranthus-palmeri

We are all on a journey

On a Journey

We are all on a journey—and are accustomed to journeying with those we love. Along the way, we root through our experiences and memories, separating the good from the bad, the acceptable from the unacceptable. 

As much as this website is about me, it’s about you—the times in your life when a situation leaves you feeling confused or suspicious or even powerless to act. Through my website and blog, I hope to reexamine family dynamics, yours, mine—to see what remains true today as in the past and to question truths that may have been trounced and left wanting under scrutiny. 

We will explore the issues of mental illness, abuse, violence, secrecy, abandonment, loss, healing, love, forgiveness— whatever you are willing and able to share.  

Go to www.rosemaryfrances.org