While pleasurable expectation is – well – pleasurable, it seems to me that I can do better without it. The disappointments of those little expectations of which I am hardly aware can be present too often. So I’m looking for a future of “Don’t know”. Wonder what’s coming next.
Frustration goes AWOL
The phone rings, just as the toast has popped.
A second before expectation held crunchy buttery flavour
watering the mouth deliciously.
A second after, speaking through the drool, miffed,
Trying politely to heed this conversation
while wondering if its a message from Microsoft sent
to spoil the small scent of gently cooling toast.
Fast flashy neurons function, frustration explodes
beyond the measure of rationality.
A scream of fault finding fails to focus
finding someone anyone to blame,
to stop the churning stomach
move from mildly pissed off to gritted teeth.
Remember to breathe, say calm, stay calm
even while breath heaves inward through flaring nostrils
that know of their own accord to flare
and indicate by the hidden pathways of their
nerves and knowingness the inescapable shame:
I have been this way before.
In that unforgiving instant blood pushes up its pressure
Ears redden, but still they hear the unexpected voice
quiet soft gentle pitch says “Granny is that you?”
Instantaneous. Another fulcrum tips to welcome space.
Toast gone for good. Smiles cross the miles.
Speech hums its music, vision brings the much loved face.
A long time ago, I wrote another poem to welcome the news that I was to become a grandmother. She is now adult, a beautiful young woman. I have three granddaughters and two grandsons, all geographically far away, I am a global grandmother. This joy is catching. It connects with all those many many others who are also grand as grandparents, and with our ancestors who were grand to us.
Poetry of Moods and Moments 