Clyde’s Grief

He doesn’t cry, or talk it out
It’s not his thing
But he does work
and sometimes writes
when the feelings are too deep to speak
and the tears too damned to spill

His mother died
He did not cry
but worked in her backyard
pruned her favorite tree…
severely

An inner urging seemed to know
the neglected tree
needed cutting deeply
to force new life
his life apart from hers

And then with roughened hands
that hid their tenderness
he trimmed the fallen branches
into bits and buried them…
put them to rest in her yard

He did not cry Jean E. Taddonio

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About geniecan

Born and raised in " America's finest City" received BS degree in nursing years ago... main career besides wife and motherhood ( and now a grandma)was as a hospice RN for 18 years...Take great joy in finding the good in all things and believing that " No Thing is Ordinary" the title of my blog. I am working on a children's picture book story named R-Qu.. a rock falls of his mountain. Writing poetry is one of my happiest things to do. Yoga, water aerobics,, gym exercise and walking our wheaton terrior, Finley, with my husband Jim are favorite things...oh yes...singing in the choir at Church and recognizing God as #1... are most important... I also have a home based business with magnetic and far intra red health care products..peace to all who read this, Love, Jeane
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