#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Needles and Lichen
“TWO SEWING BY HAZEL HALL
The Wind is sewing with needles of rain.
With shining needles of rain
It stitches into the thin
Cloth of earth. In,
In, in, in.
Oh, the wind has often sewed with me.
One, two, three.
Spring must have fine things
To wear like other springs.
Of silken green the grass must be
Embroidered. One and two and three.
Then every crocus must be made
So subtly as to seem afraid
Of lifting colour from the ground;
And after crocuses the round
Heads of tulips, and all the fair
Intricate garb that Spring will wear.
The wind must sew with needles of rain,
With shining needles of rain,
Stitching into the thin
Cloth of earth, in,
In, in, in,
For all the springs of futurity.
One, two, three.”
The medicine begins with the invitation: you may make an appointment. Then, the medicine is in the welcome. So many people hired to help, without having to ask, I’m shown, at the clinic in Cambridge, by eager helpers, where to park, where to enter. Greeted and guided, so easily, to check in, to be sent upstairs. The medicine is in the friendliness of every face. The medicine is in the needle, my shoulder, my blood stream. The medicine is in the nurse who has me sit in a room and asks if I want a tissue, because I am teary. My friend had told me how she cried at her appointment, and I am too. A vaccine is a miracle, and it’s here, in my arm, my first dose, and I have a second appointment, already set, for a second dose. And the nurse asks if I’m okay. I’m more than okay. It’s spring. I have driven into the city. I used to spend much time in the city. I will spend time in the city again. He says I am all set, I can leave. It’s spring. The sun is shining, and it’s not the rainy day the weather report predicted. Warm and getting warmer. My daughter’s apartment is nearby. I can visit her! I drive straight there, we take a walk in the sunshine, we have tea, we buy cupcakes, we enter a gift shop. We talk and talk and the sun soaks my shoulders. I sit in her little back yard while she weeds and rakes her new yard for her first spring. And we talk. And I’m not in a rush, and this is the medicine. And the whole ride home in my care I talk joyfully with my dear friend about the medicine, and it’s in her as well. This year we will celebrate her birthday in all the ways we couldn’t last year. Beside me, Frank has the medicine. He is fast asleep from the medicine. The window is open for a swift cool breeze blowing fresh, fresh, fresh air into our room.