[Maryann Corbett]

DEAR PEOPLE: PLEASE NOTE that this poem is from LAST YEAR'S Deck the Halls, the 2009 event even though we weren't able to hold it until early 2010. Make sure you don't confuse it with THIS YEAR'S competition! Thanks. Maryann.


Ending in Cape May

For my Aunt Ches at 98


You linger through a summer fraught with squalls,
a tough recession and tomato blight.
"It takes its time," you sigh. "It drags, it crawls."
You cry to have it over with at night

and deal your Mass card solitaire in dust--
a run of hearts, a club, the Savior's face.
You play a closing hand of gold on rust,
a color scheme that seems to swim in place.

I drive to Exit 0 in the rain
past stunted pines, a vagary of plate
tectonics. How this prehistoric strain
of evergreens defines the Garden State

and brines the heavy air of afternoon!
I feel the electricity in clouds
that build like weekend traffic, knowing soon
another microburst will tear like crowds

across a sunny beach on Saturday.
We've had so few this year. The businesses
along the Jersey shore are blown away.