Gloria Dibble Pond


Lifting a sagging blue bow
Behind radiant ripstop of red and yellow,
Spinnaker presses forward.
Caught in the cockpit,
Retired but not yet resigned,
I have been mired in reluctance,
Missing students, preparation, papers,
Mourning intimations of needlessness.
Already lofting with his 'chute,
My spouse counsels interests,
Agrees to walk, tries more family visits.
We sample films, Elderhostel,
Read heaps of journals and books
Delayed by dailiness.
We begin to listen to birds
Hidden in high crowns
And can hear Rose-Breasted Grosbeak, Hermit Thrush.
We meet a Black Crowned Night Heron
In extravagant breeding plumage.
A few more wildflowers seem to match
Sketches in our guide: Fireweed, Adders Tongue.
I write.
Following our festive, ballooning foresail
Sixty days' salt water camping each summer
Refreshes us for September, the luxuries of land;
Oven, hot shower, washing machine.
Friends come to lunch, telling of their work,
With no intent to bruise.
Kulbler--Ross insights on mourning promote patience,
So perhaps I, too, though grieving,
Can hang on that eager sail
And pull toward the future.
Gloria Dibble Pond
Woodbury, Connecticut


GLORIA DIBBLE POND, 70, Woodbury, Professor Emeritus is retired from Naugatuck Valley Community College. She was college literary magazine adviser for 28 years, has published two textbooks, many articles and a few poems, and likes to sail and skydive. Gloria's sun sign is Pisces.