Farewell

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Emotions, Farewell, Loss, Natural Beauty, Plants, Pleasure, Seasons

Summer Solstice Arrives

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Summer solstice arrives.

Soaring into the heart of June.

Longest day of the year.

For butterflies, bees, chipmunks.

For me.

Lover of natural illumination.

Walks at dawn and dusk.

With a Tilley hemp hat upon my head.

Tipping it to the sun.

As we tilt closer.

Like I would a glass of champagne.

Celebrating natural milestones.

Red and pink beebalm blooms.

Lips wide, enticing winged creatures.

Bright orange butterfly weed.

Beckoning monarchs, swallowtails.

Linden blooms carpeting lawns.

For queens and princesses to tread.

Mulberries hanging heavy on branches.

Staining streets as they fall.

Congregations of day lilies praying.

Tiny green lemons bursting to life.

Frogs bellowing mating calls.

Does gazing upwards quizzically.

Baby geese growing as large as parents.

Ready to take wing.

Each scene, a piece of the jigsaw.

Filling in the frame of bright June days.

Do plants and animals tire of so much light?

Are they hungrier, thirstier?

Or are they greedy like me?

Wanting to seize sunbeams?

Already sad to bid the solstice farewell.

Bit by bit what’s sunlit will fade.

As earth slips away from sun.

Shorter days bringing nighttime shade.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 22, 2024

Aging, All Poems, Family, Farewell, Grandchildren

Farewells are Difficult

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Farewells are difficult.

Especially wresting apart cousins.

Holding on to each other.

Playing without conflicts.

Craving company.

Sharing food, drink.

Offering care, consideration.

Kindling curiosity.

Too bad reunions, infrequent.

For long distances.

Busy schedules.

Grandparents not knowing.

How many times more they can make the trip.

To convene young families.

Honor kinship bonds.

Available only with travel.

So children know they have a clan.

Belong to a larger family network.

The one their parents hailed from.

Their grandparents.

Too easy to fall into everyday demands.

Let time slip by.

Lose the larger picture.

Farewells are truly difficult.

But, without them, no one’s gathered.

Sad goodbyes, inevitable

or everyone stays scattered.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 30, 2024

All Poems, Birthdays, Emotions, Family, Farewell, Holidays, Homages, Love, Memories, Natural Beauty, Parents, Passover, Trees

I Wish I Could

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I wish I could take my father’s hand.

Amble together through Spring’s annual spectacle.

He’d be one hundred three, the first Seder.

Moving to this town before I did.

Passing away before I settled nearby.

Departing on his ninety-seventh birthday.

So, this April stroll, fitting.

By turns, under fickle drizzles, sunny skies.

Admiring lindens, oaks, maples.

Unfurling leafy banners by the thousands.

After restful winter naps.

Or, flowering cherries, crabapples, plums.

Already sailing blossoms along gusty currents.

Assembling petal carpets along roadways, grass.

How about magnolias?

A favorite for the seed pods he collected.

Tended to on a windowsill.

Or dogwoods, like ones he cultivated years ago?

Blooming in flamboyant abundance.

While Viburnum bouquets perfume the air.

Making our passage regal.

Then, parades of flowers by our feet.

Though daffodils fading, tulips, lavender, yellow, red, stand.

Rows of heavenly chalices.

Grape hyacinths, irises spilling over in purples, yellows.

Phlox, violets, bushy clumps peeking through rocks.

Hosta lilies poking up in clustered stems.

One last tree before farewells.

The potted lemon, now outside, imbibing April breezes.

Popping buds to deliver fruits in December.

Once his to water, trim, fertilize.

Now my household, its steward.

If only wishes could come true,

how blissful I would be.

To watch the springtime world renew

in my father’s company.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 22, 2024

 

All Poems, Argentine Family, Art/Arts, Family, Farewell, Museums, New York, Trips and Places

I Never Thought

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Ilanit said, I never thought I could get around the world so quickly.

So inexpensively.

As we said our goodbyes.

At the staircase leading to the exit.

For she needed to go.

To finish errands on a rainy morning.

Before an afternoon flight home.

To Montevideo via Brazil.

Having just breezed through cultures and countries.

At the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Taking us to Africa, Asia, Europe.

Expeditions to Egypt, China, Japan.

To Spain for El Greco, Goya, Velázquez.

The Netherlands for Van Gogh, Rembrandt.

A whirlwind tour to be sure.

Ila in from Uruguay.

The Met kept us warm and dry.

Tender farewell fluttered by.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 10, 2024

 

All Poems, Argentine Family, Art/Arts, Family, Farewell, Museums, New York, Trips and Places

Ilanit’s Final Day

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It was Ilanit’s final day in Manhattan.

By unfortunate chance, damp and rainy.

The last leg of a month-long trip.

Buenos Aires, Ecuador, Pittsburgh, New York.

She, ticking off places she wanted to see.

Chelsea Market, Central Park, Broadway.

For the next afternoon, the airport.

To return to Montevideo.

To boyfriend, job, apartment.

I felt fortunate to be on her list.

For her choice to join us.

The very day of her flight.

She could have chosen to swap us out

for a sight she didn’t know.

Instead, she opted to follow us

with enthusiasm, gusto.

Off to meet Elias,

accompany him to the Met.

Sashay through halls, art on walls,

escaping the showery wet.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 10, 2024

All Poems, Farewell, For Children, Mexico, Playa del Carmen, Trips and Places

We’d Be Packing

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All of us were aware.

After dinner, we’d be packing.

Getting ready to return home.

So, from morning on.

Each step, farewell.

To the beach.

Cenote in the sand.

Clear Caribbean Sea.

Avenida 5 with shops and hawkers.

Cocolandia’s fresh coconut milk.

The fish spa.

El Pirata’s fried whole red snapper.

Amorino’s gelato.

Street dancing.

Mariachi musicians.

Chocolate cafés.

Our apartment, Quintamar.

Delivering a Mexican miracle.

When water appeared the second day.

So we could remain there.

Enjoy a private pool.

Meet some neighbors.

Goodbye to birdsong and palms.

Stray dogs and cats.

Bougainvillea and yellow trumpets.

Walks in shorts, sandals.

But the sun faded.

Loading bags for home began.

Suitcases lined up by the door to go.

In a sort of caravan.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 28, 2024

All Poems, Farewell, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

Plaza de la Reina

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Can only a month in a place feel like home?

Our apartment was around the corner from Plaza de la Reina.

Named for the first wife of King Alfonso XII.

Renovated over three centuries.

Nineteenth, twentieth, twenty-first.

Most recently, to make it pedestrian.

Despite cars entering, exiting from an underground garage.

Delivery trucks, cleaning crews, scooters and bikes.

All adding to the animation of the square.

Lined with shops, eateries.

Dotted with palm tree gardens, flowers.

Where you can rely on pop-up entertainment.

Pianists, fire performers, singers.

On Sundays, traditional dancing.

Women and men in regional garb.

Or at Christmas, an additional two dozen craft kiosks.

This plaza is the go-to place.

For chocolates and churros.

A quick coffee or tapa.

Ice cream in a cone.

It’s nestled against the Cathedral of Valencia.

Whose bells chime on the hour.

Sending down sacred sounds.

Can only a month in a place feel like home?

Well, I tramped that plaza a dozen times each day.

Disposing of waste in receptacles on both sides of the square.

Glass, paper, containers, organics, remains.

Or, coming in, going out through one of the many streets.

Radiating from it like arms of an octopus.

So, when you return from anywhere, you’re there.

On one side of it or the other.

Then, only a minute from the apartment on Luis Vives.

Can only a month in a place feel like home?

Well, when there’s a plaza to receive,

invite you to mingle with your neighbors,

it warms your heart, makes it hard to leave.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 8, 2024

 

 

 

All Poems, Farewell, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

Last Morning in Valencia

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I roamed plazas, streets on the last morning in Valencia.

By the light of a half moon.

And electric lamps that lit the way.

Across Plaza de la Reina.

To La Virgen.

To see the Statue of El Turia once more.

Then back to Calle de La Paz.

Parque Parterre, Glorieta.

One more foray along my route.

Before return to 4 Luis Vives.

To gather bags.

Return keys.

Take leave of María, the propietaria.

Settle in with Bob in a taxi.

Toward the airport.

For a day in Madrid.

A small dessert

post Valencian repast.

To consolidate memories,

store, protect them, make them last.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 4, 2024

All Poems, Farewell, Museums, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

How Do You Say Goodbye to A City?

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How do you say goodbye to a city?

Where you have lived for a month?

Learning new customs?

History, words?

Where you have hosted friends? Family?

Do you traverse the known?

Or seek the new?

On this last day, we chose new.

A visit to Palacio de la Generalitat.

To see Gothic architecture.

Gilded wooden ceilings, tile displays.

Portraits of Spanish kings.

From Jaime I to Alfonso XIII.

Find ourselves surprised.

When the President and Vice President marched in.

Spoke to the crowd.

Departed to go about their work.

We cabbed to the House/Museum of Blasco Ibañez.

On Malvarrosa Beach.

Next door to Casa Carmela.

A restaurant we ate at three times.

The house was Ibañez’s vacation home.

Containing photos, his desk, a history of his life.

Author, politician, traveler, family man.

Friend to other luminaries of his day.

Writer who taught me about the Albufera.

In Cañas y Barro.

From there, it was an easy march to the sea walk.

To promenade in the Mediterranean sun till comida.

Eat paella by the shore.

How do you say goodbye?

To a city baring her heart?

To cuisine, history, literature,

centuries of masters, their art?

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 4, 2024

Adult Children, All Poems, Family, Farewell, Food, Grandchildren, Museums, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

Sunday in Valencia With Katusha and her Papa

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Sunday in Valencia is strolling.

With a loved one or friend.

Or with your family.

Maybe running through a museum.

Eating paella for comida.

So we were determined.

To be Valencianos for a day.

Starting with watching regional dancing in the Plaza.

Women, men in traditional garb.

Doing boleros, fandangos, jotas.

Clicking castenets.

Singing in Valenciano

Till it was time to walk through Turia Park.

To the Museo Fallero.

Study prize winning ninots.

Comment on the parodies.

Staying till doors closed.

Heading again toward the park.

Ambulating like a wave.

With masses of walkers, bikers, kids on scooters.

Toward the City of Arts and Sciences.

To a whole new set of wanderers.

Finding passage beside pools, palms.

Finally catching a taxi.

To the promenade along the beach.

Joining up with yet more ramblers.

On the walkway, the shore.

Urging Katusha to climb ropes on the sand.

Partake of Sunday exhilaration.

Continue to Casa Carmela for late comida.

After smelling every kind of paella in eateries along the way.

To our surprise, being seated in a private room.

Where we lingered for hours.

Feasting on dried tuna, cuttlefish, salad.

Black squid paella and prawn paella.

Flan and squash cake.

Till cabbing back to the old city.

Resuming our constitutional.

With the remaining Sunday marchers.

Retracing steps along plazas.

Past the statue of the River Turia.

To both old city gates and back.

For this was the last day in Valencia

for Katusha and our son.

We hoped to blend right in

with energetic motion.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 3, 2024

Museo Fallero is the museum of the Fallas, the Valencian festival in March when people who live in Valencia build giant figures, usually parodies of the period. On March 19, these figures are burned except for two that are rescued from the flames. The museum houses those that have been rescued through the years.

Ninots: The figures that are built during the Fallas. Ninot is a Valencian word that means doll.