Death Notice

Occasionally, I scan the obituaries just to make certain, as someone once said, that I am not among those listed. A few months past, a stranger's obit caught my eye.



Death Notice


Nobody of note died today,
no prior President, no Statesman
aged with grace, nobody of renown.

Instead, the newspaper's featured
obituary singled out Ed Smith,
a person of the streets.

Born on a downbeat, an orphanage
for a home, a teenager finally freed
by age and need for WWII recruits.

After the War a "disappointed" mom
found him on her doorstep
and not a letter with death benefits.

Ed tried marriage, but soon "hated"
wedlock. Fixed its failure
on being trapped in a bad luck alley.

A drifter, a drinker, a day laborer,
a victim of PTSD and con men.
An RV with the false promise of heat

his bitter winter lodgings until a samaritan
secured warmer quarters for Ed
and his "best friend," a therapy dog.

Mr. Smith died alone at 92.
I set aside the newspaper unsettled
by the unorthodox obit, his old Navy photo:

a young man's curls escaping a sailor's cap,
and a jaunty smile still filled with optimism.
Despite all, someone of note died today.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor

Spoiler

From my 10th floor vantage point I watch the convergence of inland gulls over a period of weeks each fall. Their appearance means autumn has arrived as surely as any flock of geese flying south. And when the gulls finally fly off, I am always let down.



Spoiler


Inland gulls
stoked with the pent up energy
of kids before a fall field trip

ripple the air over an early morning
gathering spot, a still vacant parking lot.

Small numbers at first, the group
swells into a proper flock given time,
but the building boss grumbles.

At dawn a security car scatters
the crowd, breaking up their play daily
until a secret signal to peel away

propels them south for the winter,
and an acre of bare concrete
stares back at the car for hire.

The birds' aerial choreography,
murmurations of unrestrained joy, gone.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor

Autumnal Equinox

The fall equinox lurks around the corner. But when today's weather person talks about highs of 80 in September in Minnesota I just shake my head, and reassess the wisdom of wearing a long-sleeved blouse I had mentally cued up last night.



Autumnal Equinox


Later sunrises and earlier sunsets
march toward one another like troops
in pincer formation

battling the muggy days that lay siege
to a usually brisk September.

Juxtaposed against public pools
padlocked and settled for hibernation,
skateboarders in shorts fly by.

Youth relishing a reprieve from jackets,
unconcerned with why. The familiar chill
of fall, lacking.

To the north
cool, Canadian air hesitates to cross
the border, perturbed by political posturing.

And for the foreseeable future
                                       more night than day.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor

Birch Trees

We have been spending a lot of time at our "new" cabin this summer. What I've noticed is a greatly decreased number of paper birch and a lot more oaks on this property. I miss those skinny trees that respond to the slightest breath of air.



Birch Trees


bear nervous Nellie leaves,
flutter with a thousand little flags
even in easy breezes
and SOS the hardwoods
on wind whipping days.
With all this fidgeting it's
no surprise these skinny Minnies
plague the pines and stoic oaks
with their skittery jitters.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor