
This poem may seem nostalgic, but not everything about the past is worth saving. I hope you like my thinly-veiled criticism of the practice, of passing rules about public health, one business at a time. Thanks for coming by to read.
One at a time,
I card and spin,
I knit and purl
One stitch at a time.
I make my widgets
One by one,
From wood and nails
And sweat and sighs.
One at a time,
I fashion shoes
From patterns from
The mists of time.
From recipes
Of great-great-grands,
I mix my batter,
Fill my pies.
One at a time,
I write my words,
I scratch on paper,
Dip in ink.
Apply a salve,
One strip at a time,
Each bandage
Curing what’s beneath.
I make my lace
One loop at a time.
A cuff takes days,
A collar, weeks.
I walk to town,
One step at a time.
No locomotive
Soothes my heels.
We make pronouncements,
One at a time,
Each lonely cottage
Industry,
While sliding downward,
One at a time,
Towards cottage
Life expectancy.
Copyright 2021 Andrea LeDew
For a post from a year ago on the prospect of sending our kids back to school, from a homeschooler’s perspective, read Falling Behind.
For a mini-story about feeling abandoned, read Labrador.
And people will continue to die; one at time, the body count mounts. I despair . . .
The living need to keep hope alive and do their best to keep each other safe. Its like any other attack–we’ll pull through, if we pull together as one. Time to watch Foyle’s War again and relearn the meaning of sacrifice for one’s country.
I couldn’t agree more. (“Foyle’s War” is oneof my husband’s favorite shows.)