Tilt-a-Whirl

A Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms

Retirement Community Fauna

by Jean L. Kreiling

En route to its well-tended habitat,
a golf cart glides, its tiny engine purring.
With all the smug discretion of a cat
en route to its well-tended habitat,
it carries a feline aristocrat
who does not purr, but grins. He likes the whirring
of wheels en route toward his habitat.
The golf cart glides, its tiny engine purring.

Bridge tables buzz like hives of bumblebees,
the bidding honeyed by fast-flying rumor.
Marie has gout, Joan’s getting two new knees,
or so they buzz. Like hives of bumblebees,
they’re busy: “Two hearts.” “Pass the peanuts, please.”
They laugh; the sting of age requires humor
and hives of friends. They buzz like bumblebees,
their bidding honeyed by fast-flying rumor.

Liz never squawks about her aching wing;
her “golden” silence signifies endurance.
She coos about the grandkids visiting,
but never squawks about her aching wing.
Because the doctor couldn’t do a thing,
and then some bird-brain screwed up her insurance,
she never squawks about her aching wing.
Her “golden” silence signifies endurance.

A beast of burden once, George isn’t sure
how best to prowl through permanent vacation.
Go fishing? Read? Take that wine-tasting tour?
A beast of burden once, he isn’t sure.
He’s learned to sleep late—sometimes doesn’t stir
‘til eight—but isn’t fit for hibernation.
A beast of burden once, he’s just not sure
how best to prowl through permanent vacation.

Exotic species visit every year,
each creature tethered to a high-tech toy—
young cubs with smart phones, pups with video gear—
so tall, and more exotic every year.
Although grandparents call the odd ducks “dear,”
bewilderment accompanies their joy
when alien species visit every year,
each creature tethered to a high-tech toy.

Swans mate for life; the lucky ones retire
to pretty ponds and float for years together.
For buoyancy, to cuddle and conspire,
swans mate for life. The lucky ones retire
and fluff each other’s feathers. We admire
their loyalty, their grace, their pond’s fine weather—
and we too hope to mate for life, retire
to pretty ponds, and float for years together.



Jean L. Kreiling was the winner of the 2011 Able Muse Write Prize for Poetry, and she has been a finalist for the Dogwood Poetry Prize, the Frost Farm Prize, and the Howard Nemerov Sonnet Award. Her poetry appears widely in print and online journals, most recently American Arts Quarterly, Angle, Measure, and Mezzo Cammin, as well as in anthologies, including the recent Birchsong: Poetry Centered in Vermont.



 

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