Monday Morning Musings:
“People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it’s quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment.
A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors.”
–Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
I.

Valley Green Inn
A lunch date at a favored place
where time both moves and pauses, still—
(our hearts, across, but not apart.
He says, “Look at that horse and cart.”)
We eat and talk, at a leisurely pace
we walk through sun and autumn chill
past greens and blues and shadowed grey
where rival geese gangs gather like Jets and Sharks
(honks and echoes through the park)
and pops of red and golden leaves gently sway
in the breeze that sparks
more conversation–
punctuated by loud fowl annotations.
All the colors of the day, all the light that bends
as life begins and as it ends
what do we see—
no, really look, stare
focus on a tree,
at all the colors there
the hues of yesterday tread
on tomorrow–but see today.
And so, we do,
and watch it slowly fade away
to the bright humming moon in the indigo blue
who sends our dreams out on their way.
II.
Another walk, I see AMOR, bright red
and nearby, a yellow flower
then a memorial to survivors and six million dead
murdered by those came to power
while others stood by.
(Not humanity’s finest hour.)
I see fountains and birds
and buildings and sky–
but what are the words
to offer, when I wonder why
the hate—then comes another shooter
thoughts and prayers do not suffice
against the looters and wannabe storm troopers–
how many more must be sacrificed?
What of memorials then, and statues of love
when the haters make no amends
and the peace dove
seems to fly a route that bends
and sways precariously
while the refugees flee–
So, we gather together, family and friends
find joy in cats and pizza, hold close hope—
look for the helpers, the lights in the crack
look for love, and those who have your back
because who knows when something wicked this way comes
and if only we could be warned by pricking of the thumbs
and if evil only came in theatrical play
wouldn’t earth be a wonderful place to stay?
III.
We walk again, view art on the walls
pops of color on fall’s gloomy streets
discuss stories and recall
this and that, before we take our seats
to see a play about after the apocalypse
a ragtag group that performs The Simpsons.
they recount episodes, buy lines for scripts
try to come to grips, that they’re the ones
who are left. The play continues, years pass
and a mythology forms, but has love won?
Certainly, the need to tell stories is ageless, ancient
words, rhythm, art, song—is eternal
and so is the need to make a statement
about our own times–so it comes full circle.
We discuss the play over cheese and wine
then walk to the train to return to our home

Orange wine at Tria
feeling fortunate that we are fine–
though my thoughts roam
to those who have lost people they cherish
killed by hate and those who support it
how do we make it perish,
make the world emit
love, kindness, joy,
and hate outwit–
so, a ploy–
I sleep and dream–
see time rippling in a wave
flowing in an endless eternal sea
colored by infinite hues, and thoughts we save
ride through all space, simply waiting to be
born again with a bang.
Dreams of a thousand colors. Think if. Maybe. Stay.
Even though this is more than one walk, I’m also linking this to Robin’s Walktober. I hope that’s OK, Robin.
I. We had lunch at the Valley Green Inn, then walked along Forbidden Drive. II. I walked through the Philadelphia Holocaust Memorial Plaza (also written about here) and along the Parkway in Philadelphia. III. We walked around before and after seeing Mr. Burns, A Post-Electric Play at the Wilma Theater.
Noticing, observing, weaving – your musings are marvellous Merril thank you. Observing also the horror around the world, more especially in Pittsburgh right now. And in among it all, Amor …
Thank you so much, Susan!
The darkness cannot be ignored, but, as I read, I hoped you would bring this back around to color.
Thank you, Ken.
I don’t remember reading these lines about color in The Book Thief. Thank you for using it as the scaffolding for your reminisces this weekend.
The house wall mural is extraordinary!
Thank you, Marian. I think The Book Thief quotation is from the first chapter.
I’m glad you liked the mural. The one with the garden? I never noticed it before. There are so many murals all over the city. And the one with the girl is about the power of reading. I discovered it while walking around near where my mom lives.
Beautiful post, Merril. Your photographs are lovely…I especially like the one taken at the Valley Green Inn.
Thank you very much, Jill.
The photo of us in front of the place? Two women who had just had lunch there asked me to take a photo of them, so I then I asked them to take a picture of us. 🙂
Yes, the one of you and your husband. 🙂
🙂
Whether it’s one walk or four, your reflections are always worth listening too, and watching—the visuals are lovely too.
Thank you very much, Jane. 🙂
🙂
While I can I’ll pause on this line: “where rival geese gangs gather like Jets and Sharks.” I love this line, the alliteration, the image of geese as Jets and Sharks … it gave me goosebumps (pun intended). As for the rest of your lovely poem, well, it’s lovely. I guess I just said that. I feel I’m walking along side you, reading your thoughts and nodding in agreement, finding joy in the colors and sadness for those taken from us.
Thank you so much, Marie, for your kind and lovely comment!
The geese were so funny–one group sailing one way, and another group the other way. One group would honk, and the other answered back. And ducks just placidly swimming along side.
Hahaha … that’s a scene to make one laugh out loud 😁
It was! 🙂
You have woven the truth of the excellent quotation into your splendid poem which also contains a chilling message about destructive power
Thank you very much, Derrick.
It’s perfectly okay, Merril. I’m glad you joined in and we got three walks for the price (so to speak) of one. 🙂
This made me laugh out loud: “punctuated by loud fowl annotations.” As if the birds were using foul/fowl language.
Once again, your musings are thoughtful and beautiful with hints (maybe more than hints) of hope.
Thank you, Robin. I’m glad you enjoyed it–and that I made you laugh, too. 🙂
Enjoyable compilation, Merril. The mural on the side of the row houses is amazing!
Thank you very much, Eliza. Philadelphia is full of murals. It’s fun–and amazing–to walk by somewhere and discover one.
I can feel autumn in your words. And the melancholy that seems to be the background to our world right now. How to balance what is given and what is taken away…(K)
Thank you, Kerfe. . .yes.
If only evil did exist in theater, yes, I agree, dear Merril… and yet, here we are living in a circus led by a fool! But I dove into the blue sea and voted early yesterday — I hope many will, too. xo
Thank you, dear Rose. I will definitely vote, but I’ll wait till the day of. I don’t know which is better in terms of votes counting, but I kind of like the ritual of going to the voting booth to cast my vote (on electronic machines that hopefully won’t be hacked).
I loved the first walk because it captured fall (for me). Simply beautiful – and the words in your poetic style helps set the tone. … That mural in the third walk is awesome!
Thank you, Frank.
There are SO many murals around Philadelphia. I never noticed that one before–there were several more just within a few blocks.
This was full of such a range of emotions and connections, Merril. I like the beauty in art and the wake up call of remembering the worst of the worst (Holocaust) in the Tree. I liked the photos of you and your husband and the pretty mural on a lovely older building very much.
Thank you very much, Robin. I can’t believe I visited the memorial on Tuesday, and then that shooting happened on Saturday. You would love all the murals in Philadelphia! 🙂
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