Poems

 

Evangeline Murray

December 30, 2000 through March 9, 2001

 


Table of Contents

 

1.†††††††† My Christmas Book. 10

2. Christmas in Halifax. 11

3.†††††††† Joanieís Christmas Gift - The Lobster 12

4.†††††††† The Dry Apartment 13

5.†††††††† Church and a Montreal Blizzard. 14

6.†††††††† Photo Albums. 15

7.†††††††† Where are the refills for my pen ?. 16

8.†††††††† My Father 17

9.†††††††† New Yearsí Eve. 18

10.†††††† Morning Tea. 19

11.†††††† A thank you to brother Raymond. 20

12.†††††† Verses. 21

13.†††††† Twenty Strong. 22

14.†††††† The University Club Luncheon. 23

15.†††††† Small Gloves. 24

16. Christmas Cards. 25

17.†††††† Poems. 26

18.†††††† A normal painting day. 26

19.†††††† A visit from Geoff, Anne, Willa & Adrian. 26

20.†††††† College Dances. 26

21.†††††† The Decision. 26

22.†††††† A Normal Day. 26

23.†††††† More Verses. 26

24.†††††† When I was young. 26

25.†††††† The Studio. 26

26.. Tomorrow is Epiphany. 26

27.†††††† Birthday Celebration. 26

28. Preservation. 26

29.†††††† January 10, 2001. 26

30.†††††† Our new blanket 26

31.†††††† January 14, 2001. 26

32.†††††† My doctorís appointment 26

33.†††††† The McGill Studio. 26

34.†††††† The missing checkbook. 26

35.†††††† Stones at the studio. 26

36.†††††† The Bank. 26

37. Christmas Cards. 26

38.†††††† The Missing Mat 26

39.†††††† Studio Clean Up. 26

40. Changing still life. 26

41.†††††† Not too pleasing. 26

42.†††††† Cookies for Ann. 26

43.†††††† Geoffrey. 26

44.†††††† Janetís birthday socks. 26

45.†††††† Syllable. 26

46.†††††† Woozie. 26

47.†††††† Platter, Pinecones & Shells. 26

48.†††††† Woozieís visit 26

49.†††††† ĎLines and Colourí 26

50.†††††† The Studio in January. 26

51. Sketching at the MAA. 26

52.†††††† Waiting for the new lens. 26

53.†††††† MGH - the waiting room.. 26

54.†††††† Topics for a verse. 26

55.†††††† The Washing. 26

56.†††††† Assorted thoughts. 26

57.†††††† The new tablecloth. 26

58.†††††† Meatloaf recipe. 26

59.†††††† Sleep. 26

60.†††††† A lesson in washing hand-knitted socks. 26

61.†††††† Coffee-mateís new container 26

62.†††††† A winter walk in Murray Hill Park. 26

63.†††††† Cathyís Sweater 26

64.†††††† Scrabble. 26

65.†††††† Studio Poem.. 26

66.†††††† The Studio - A Special Place. 26

67.†††††† The Studio Challenge. 26

68.†††††† The early bus. 26

69.†††††† A year from now?. 26

70.†††††† The appeal of verse. 26

Sensitive Poems: 26

71.†††††† A tragic tale to tell 26

72.†††††† The Studio. 26

73.†††††† The University Club of Montrealís Twenty-Fifth Annual Dinner 26

74.†††††† From The Sixth Floor of the Education Building at McGill 26

75.†††††† My aquarelle. 26

76.†††††† February Three. 26

77.†††††† Pills. 26

78.†††††† I am an Artist 26

79.†††††† Daily duties. 26

80.†††††† Ann Carson. 26

81.†††††† Sunday, February 4, 2001. 26

82.†††††† The Studio sink. 26

83.†††††† Scrutiny. 26

84.†††††† The Pebble. 26

85.†††††† The joy of verse. 26

86.†††††† The Empty Studio. 26

87.†††††† Beaver pelts. 26

88. Preparations. 26

89.†††††† Focus. 26

90.†††††† The Quiet Studio. 26

91.†††††† Knitting - friend or foe?. 26

92. Unnecessary Apology. 26

93.†††††† Helpful strangers. 26

94.†††††† The new aquarelle. 26

95.†††††† The challenge of the kernel 26

96.†††††† The Portfolio. 26

97.†††††† Pens, Pencils, Brushes. 26

98.†††††† Morning before nine. 26

99.†††††† The slipper socks. 26

100.††† The Studio. 26

101.††† Paint brush care. 26

102.††† February morn. 26

103.††† The apple. 26

104.††† The kernel 26

105.††† Snow strip. 26

106.. Complete. 26

107.††† Oil paint 26

108.††† As it comes. 26

109.††† Patterns in the snow.. 26

110.††† My mother and the King. 26

111.††† The snap, the loop, the safety pin. 26

112.††† Saturday - Groceries to Brunch. 26

113.††† Multi-dimensional Father 26

114.††† Setting up the still life. 26

115.††† Sunday, February 11, 2001. 26

116.††† Verses, not prose. 26

117.††† The Westmount Library. 26

118.††† The marker Ö in the library. 26

119.††† Pant hem.. 26

120.††† The lost glove. 26

121.††† The Studio. 26

122. Presentation day. 26

123.††† The Visit 26

124.††† The New Work. 26

125.††† The painting - log, stones and sock. 26

126.††† The empty studio. 26

127.††† Poem to Cathy. 26

128.††† February 15, 2001 - the evening. 26

129.††† Your Letter - poem or prose?. 26

130.††† An evening verse. 26

131. Valentines. 26

132.††† Knitting. 26

133.††† Colours. 26

134.††† Daily verses. 26

135.††† February 21, 2001 - the morning. 26

136.††† Kingston train ride. 26

137.††† Janetís Birthday. 26

138.††† Janetís Party. 26

139.††† Train ride back to Montreal 26

140.††† A verse a day. 26

141.††† Dust 26

142.††† Tuesday projects. 26

140.Wednesday. 26

141.The day of Daddyís test 26

142.My keys. 26

143.Daddy called. 26

144.Tom.. 26

145.McGill Studio. 26

146.McGill Studio. 26

147.Blessings. 26

143.††† Daddyís repair 26

144.††† ĎIíd like Greekí 26

145.††† Rhyme Dictionary. 26

146.††† Pretty, cool or school ?. 26

147. Marguerite. 26

148.††† Poem from Craig. 26

149.††† Daddyís home. 26

150.††† Emmaís sweater 26

151.††† Cathy and her exercises. 26

152.††† Sandraís flashy socks. 26

153.††† Daddyís flowers. 26

154.††† Rockcliff 26

155.††† Jim in town. 26

156. Esquimalt 26

 


1.     My Christmas Book

 

This Christmas I received a book

With pages blank and lined

Perhaps I am supposed to write

The treasures of my mind.

 

I think some poems would be fun

The lines would not be long.

And I can get the meter right

And nothing should go wrong.

 

This book has scripture on each page

And this will set the tone

And praise the Lord, as I begin

I will not be alone.

 

 

December 30, 2000


2.     Christmas in Halifax

 

This week we were in Halifax

with presents Ďround the tree

And everyone was wonderful

To granddad and to me.

 

I have a chocolate orange

Too gorgeous to consume

And both of us have china mugs

We took up to our room.

 

We watched the fancy skating

And sat beside the ice

We saw the lights of Christmas time

And even worshipped twice.

 

Young Robert told us many jokes

We had to laugh again.

Rebecca did her knitting well

Before we caught the train.

 

We know that Nova Scotia

From Montreal is far

But we had one more chance to see

How nice our people are.

 

December 30, 2000


3.     Joanieís Christmas Gift - The Lobster

 

I may forget a hundred things

But not what Joanie sent.

Her lobster dances, shakes and sings

And that is its intent.

 

Its box is 14 inches long

Its width is over 8

It sits up on it tail to sing

Its waving claws are great.

 

We welcome any who may come

To see its wild display.

And then weíll store it in its box

To sing another day.

 

 

December 31, 2000


4.     The Dry Apartment

 

I had a mucous membrane parched

My dear one was aware.

He found a great electric box

To moisten up the air.

 

It works with water, making steam

And what a difference now!

I breathe with comfort and with ease!

I had forgotten how.

 

In winter chill the warmth is nice

The radiators bless.

They canít cope with humidity

But we have now, I guess.

 

December 31, 2000


5.     Church and a Montreal Blizzard

 

We woke up to a blizzard

With wind and blowing snow

We wear our boots to go to church

We havenít far to go.

 

The drifts did not deter us

We made it to the door

The rector was expecting us

We had been there before.

 

He gave us each a reading

The lessons, one and two

We read them from the lectern

That wasnít hard to do.

 

As we walked back on our return

We had a happy sight

The janitor had made a path

So we got home alright.

 

 

December 31, 2000


6.     Photo Albums

 

I am an album person

They help us to keep track

And after many happy years

They make a mighty stack.

 

The happy are recorded

More fully than the not

But just the same they give the clue

And date of what was what.

 

They have no uniformity

In colour, size and shape.

But they could be identified

With white adhesive tape.

 

Telling of their order

And the next in line

And the years they represent

I know that they are mine.

 

 

January 1, 2001


7.     Where are the refills for my pen ?

 

I keep on losing everything

And did it once again

So far I have not come across

The refills for my pen.

 

At least I have a pencil

For what I have to say

And a ball point at the ready

For my letters, New Yearsí day

 

 

January 1, 2001


8.     My Father

 

I think my father treasured me

Though boys were valued more.

Though I grew up I never had

More burdens than before.

 

Itís true I took in morning tea

And mastered how to knit

A lady I was born to be

A lady - that was it.

 

At last I satisfied my Dad

Although he had to wait

I did it as he would have done

The choosing of a mate.

 

There are more lines that do apply

The way I think to-day.

I think the highlight of his life

Was giving me away.

 

 

January 1, 2001


9.     New Yearsí Eve

 

Perhaps our New Yearsí could be dull

But this year it was not.

We had a party brought to us

By Tom & Joan & Scot.

 

They brought a special cold dessert

Divisible by five

We sat around in candle light

So glad to be alive.

 

The center piece had big balloons

With hats and streamers too

The old year went out with a bang

And ushered in the new.

 

 

January 1, 2001


10.            Morning Tea

 

My morning tea fell on my lap

And it was hot and wet

I must have dozed, and let it go

Iíve not recovered yet.

 

However it is only tea

And I will let it dry

And trust I wonít do that again

I truly plan to try.

 

 

January 2, 2001


11.            A thank you to brother Raymond

 

Do you recall when we were young

I played with words and rhymes?

I never had enough to do

So did it many times.

 

This Christmas I received a book

To write in as before

And when I looked for something else

I found I had three more.

 

However we have just one board

As lavish as you sent

I like to stroke it with my hand

Perhaps not what you meant.

 

But since then we have made a move

I trust not a mistake

To our delight it was just right

To hold our Christmas cake.

 

 

January 2, 2001


12.            Verses

 

It may be that more verses come

Than reasonably should.

Itís not bad fun to do again

The thing I always could.

 

And you may comment

ďNot again - another one of thoseĒ

But at this point in time they come

More easily than prose.

 

 

January 2, 2001


13.            Twenty Strong

 

We had our letters on the shelf

And they were twenty strong.

We think weíve done the total list

Although perhaps weíre wrong.

 

To-morrow they will all be gone

Will all be on their way.

I took their picture in the sun

While they were here to-day.

 

 

January 2, 2001


14.            The University Club Luncheon

 

to-day we go to Daddyís Club

The party is at noon.

For him the timing is just right,

For me a little soon.

 

Tomorrow is my hair-do day

Iíll party just the same

Theyíve read the story of my life

In print and with my name.

 

Theyíve seen our cards, still on display

From Christmases gone by

They have more things to think about

Than messy hair and why.

 

There is a sequel to all this

The party was such fun

I hope I will be asked again

To the succeeding one

 

 

January 3, 2001


15.            Small Gloves

 

I took the new gloves from the drawer

The old ones limp and grey

We need gloves handy to the sink

Weíll throw the old away.

 

But what a challenge it was then

To get my hand inside

We both prefer the older glove

My hand is also wide.

 

 

January 3, 2001


16.            Christmas Cards

 

I worked on last yearís cards to-day

I make five lines in gold.

I hold the ruler steady

And I hear this verse unfold.

 

But then the call from Cathy came

What blessings can occur?
And Iíll hug Geoffrey when he comes

And give him one from her.

 

 

January 3, 2001


17.            Poems

 

Iíve started writing poems

Some days its two or three

I trust I find more topics

Appropriate for me.

 

I have a book to write in

And feel that is a start

And soon I will be occupied

With time consuming art.

 

Iíd better write in pencil

The pen will soon run dry

But Iíll record the lines that come

Although I hardly try.

 

 

January 3, 2001


18.            A normal painting day

 

Iíll wear my painting pants to-day

And Lionel wonít care

Itís always hard in winter time

Deciding what to wear.

 

Itís urgent to be warm and dry

And preferably neat

You have to think about the thing

Thatís just right on your feet.

 

But after that, an easy one

Although my brain feels dim

Thereís no decision I must make

Before I have my swim.

 

 

January 4, 2001


19.            A visit from Geoff, Anne, Willa & Adrian

 

The visit was fantastic

We had from Geoff and Anne,

And Adrian and Willa,

So precious to the clan.

 

They drove so far to reach us

They drove past winter snow.

It took them long to find their way

And then they had to go.

 

But we heard all about the time

They had in Portland, Maine.

Then in a mall in Boston

Where they would go again.

 

I read my verses, spread my art

And showed some albums too.

And next month we may go their way

A visit overdue.

 

 

January 4, 2001


20.            College Dances

 

I had a friend in college

Invited me to a dance

I thought it was important

And accepted every chance.

 

I would not be ungracious

Or even indiscreet

But he who held my hand would take

A step with every beat.

 

The others who were dancing

Would hardly change their place

They were in seventh heaven

The thing was their embrace.

 

We crossed the floor quite often

They didnít even come

My friend from his perspective

Decided they were dumb.

 

He came to the conclusion

And often heíd repeat

Though I thought I was a dancer

He thought Iíd rather eat.

 

 

January 4, 2001


21.            The Decision

 

This time Iíll write about a day

Important in my life

It comes before I made the change

From maiden into wife.

 

There is no logic to this day

The logic that it lacks,

Was how relieved I felt that time

He walked along the track.

 

The train had somehow failed to stop

Why wasnít he along?

I counted on his coming

Oh dear, could I be wrong?

 

The rest just followed on from there

I knew then to decide

This man was everything to me

And I would be his bride.

 

 

January 4, 2001


22.            A Normal Day

 

I did the washing, had my swim

Then went on for my hair

Itís no surprise at 81

I dozed off in his chair.

 

Since then we went for food supplies

The oft-repeating need.

This evening we have plans to loaf

And trust we shall succeed.

 

 

January 4, 2001


23.            More Verses

 

I have been writing verses since

The New year was begun

And now on January 4th

They total 21.

 

And this includes The New Yearsí Eve

The prologue to this book

I trust there is some merriment

In what I undertook.

 

 

January 4, 2001


24.            When I was young

 

When I was young and verses wrote

I donít know what I said.

My mother thought they spoke of sex

Which put me in the red.

 

That stopped me writing at the time

But sometimes, with a need

I wrote a verse that was refined

That someone wished to read.

 

 

January 5, 2001


25.            The Studio

 

The studio has need of me

The plants were dry to-day

Thereís so much sticky tape to peel

And then to throw away

 

I put the big plant in its place

I found a handy tray.

Its top was garnished with some stones

That seemed to make it weigh.

 

The plants though watered, needed light

And thereís so little room

At least I found to my delight

The dustpan and the broom.

 

Letís line the easels nicely up

Letís have the slant the same.

If students come without a clue

They arenít the ones to blame.

 

It is much nicer than before

Itís now much more in shape.

Thereís one more leaf that has to go

One peel of sticky tape.

 

And now itís time for me to go

Iíll say itís not the same

Itís far more pleasing than it was

This morning when I came.

January 5, 2001


26.            Tomorrow is Epiphany

 

to-day we went for sketching pens

All varied and in brown

And Daddy cleans his moist air tray

The box goes up-side down.

 

He did some caning on his chair

He planned to and is glad

Tomorrow is Epiphany

The pack up makes him sad.

 

I make a sock of varied yarn

to-day I did some more

I hope they like assorted shades

I donít know who theyíre for.

 

And Daddy reads in the Gazette

Of fads the teachers try

What is fashion? What is fad?

What works best and why?

 

January 6, 2001


27.            Birthday Celebration

 

On this first Sunday of the year

We feasted with you three

You came to get us in your car

With hospitality.

 

What lovely salmon we enjoyed

What baby peas as well

It was a very special time

This is my chance to tell.

 

And there are birthdays at this time

Both Scotís and Joanís now too

Weíre glad weíre not too far away

The time the year is new

 

 

January 7, 2001


28.            Preservation

 

And Iíll take time to level up

My hip joint with my head

And Iíll make sure no city dust

Will ever reach my bed.

 

Part of this is making sure

We have sufficient rest.

The other part is eating well

And choosing what is best.

 

 

January 8, 2001


29.            January 10, 2001

 

Iíll write a poem, one a day

To get back up to speed.

A little practice never hurt

For any special need.

 

My plan to stay at home to-day

Related to the cold

And I have cards that wait for me

To finish off in gold.

 

 

January 10, 2001


30.            Our new blanket

 

to-day we bought a blanket

The right size for our bed

This blanket is not made of wool

But something else instead.

 

It has a fancy woven look

Itís pleasing to the touch

It is a lovely shade of green

We like it very much.

 

The single blankets can go on

According to the chill

But this one now may cover all

And now this new one will.

 

 

January 13, 2001


31.            January 14, 2001

 

Heís working on a puzzle

I make a small bootie.

He has a ball of plastic parts

I search my memory.

 

Since then we had a Sunday walk

Up Cote St. Antoine hill.

We saw them sliding on the slope

They must be sliding still.

 

The puzzleís done and in its box

One pair of booties too.

And I begin the second pair

For someone very new.

 

 

January 14, 2001


32.            My doctorís appointment

 

to-day I saw my doctor

For her, Iíll see two more.

Although one is a stranger

The otherís from before.

 

From the Place Medical Vendome

I took the 90 bus

It drove me on to Peel up high,

One change and not much fuss.

 

The studio was needing me

The janitor was there.

The stools are neatly back in place

The easels and the chair.

 

He used his mop to clean it up

I had my coffee then.

My doctor was at half past eight

And now itís just past ten.

 

 

January 15, 2001


33.            The McGill Studio

 

A donkey in a studio

Is more than just a chair.

It has a place to prop your pad

A ledge for chalk is there.

 

McGill has some no longer new

But they go with the art.

This morning Daddy climbed the hill

To fix a broken part.

 

He glued the broken piece back on

Itís now secure and steady

And so for the next drawing class

This donkeyís at the ready.

 

 

January 16, 2001


34.            The missing checkbook

 

This afternoon we suffered stress

We didnít really need.

We searched for Daddyís checkbook, and

Our search did not succeed.

 

He knew just where he thought it was

The check book was not there.

How could it vanish out of sight?

It had some spot, but where?

 

My purse was overcrowded so

I thought Iíd have a look

Along with my affairs I found

The special missing book.

 

 

January 16, 2001


35.            Stones at the studio

 

The studio looks out to see

The roof tops under snow.

But inside I arranged some stones

A subject that I knew.

 

I had a paper ready - stretched

Iíll start with aquarelle.

My new brown pens are here with me

Iíll try them out as well.

 

Itís very quiet, very still

The class is down the hall.

Iíll try to paint the stones to-day

In ways however small.

 

 

January 17, 2001


36.            The Bank

 

I went into the bank just now

To get my book up-dated.

It seemed to take for ever

I was not pleased as I waited.

 

For me with so much to be done

The waiting isnít funny

There are so many things to do

As well as counting money.

 

 

January 17, 2001


37.            Christmas Cards

 

I work on green in golden ink

With either brush or pen.

There are five points to every star

And every two have ten.

 

My table gets the morning light

And Iíve done quite a few.

Just now I counted what remained

Thereís 19 left to do.

 

Iíll be so glad to get them done

With steady hand and light.

The pen will do the points at first

Then ink that brushes right.

 

 

January 18, 2001


38.            The Missing Mat

 

We had two plastic mats for boots

A green one and a grey.

They were so useful in the hall

Until one got away.

 

We looked around and up and down

And underneath as well.

We knew we started out with two

It is the truth I tell.

 

We bought another darker green

So useful but to-day

Within the crack behind the fridge

We found the missing grey.

 

 

January 18, 2001


39.            Studio Clean Up

 

It took me half an hour up here

Before I wished to sit.

But then I filled my coffee cup

And took time out to knit.

 

It was quite dark when I arrived

But now itís nearly eight.

There is a lightness to outside

For voices I will wait.

 

I donít know why the students think

(or if they think at all)

That pencil peelings disappear

When all they do is fall.

 

 

January 17, 2001


40.            Changing still life

 

I put some driftwood up behind

Arranged some stones to draw.

A drawing board went underneath

Iíd just what I saw.

 

I worked in brown with ink and paint.

More for another day.

I never thought that they would need

To take the board away.

 

The class was doing jars and things

On drapery arranged.

But I have finished just the same

Thoí everything has changed.

 

 

January 19, 2001


41.            Not too pleasing

 

You are busier than I am

this I know.

I like to function wisely

I can sew.

 

While at the ready I prefer to be

If you ever need a poet, turn to me.

Thereís not much in life that is Ďfor freeí

If you ever need a poet, turn to me.

 

This page is not too pleasing

The plan is not to fret.

I just make verses for the fun

Iím not discouraged yet.

 

 

January 20, 2001


 

 

42.            Cookies for Ann

 

To-day weíll make some cookies

That will go west to Ann.

I have a handy Round Top thing

Iíll put in all I can.

 

We feared they would be bulky

And welcome Shelleyís space.

These cookies are not often sent

To such a far-off place.

 

 

January 20, 2001


43.            Geoffrey

 

I gave birth to a lovely boy

In nineteen fifty four.

He gave us so much merriment

We never had before.

 

And he brought Anne into our life

A pleasure and a joy.

And then they had a baby girl

And after that a boy.

 

Weíre thinking now of Willa

And Adrian so dear.

This January morning

When Geoffreyís day is near.

 

 

January 21, 2001


44.            Janetís birthday socks

 

Iím making Janetís birthday socks

With two socks at a time.

It gives me lots of time to think

Of what could be a rhyme.

 

The yarnís high class and colourful

But there is not enough.

Iíll have to choose another end

Of just as high-class stuff.

 

I would prefer it were the same

But this is navy blue.

I know each time the socks go on

This partís inside the shoe.

 

 

January 21, 2001


45.            Syllable

 

ĎSyllableís a handy word

But mostly itís too long.

In a simple four line verse

It turns out to be wrong.

 

When I put down what comes to me

And scan what I have done.

I will reject the count of three

For words that count just one.

 

 

January 21, 2001


46.            Woozie

 

Our daughter was Elizabeth

We chose the name with care.

But for our son in babyhood

The naming wasnít fair.

 

He tried and tried to say it

He tried without much luck.

Then in a fury he said ĎWoozieí

Since then the name has stuck.

 

It is a magic moment that I share

I never will forget it, I was there.

 

 

January 21, 2001


47.            Platter, Pinecones & Shells

 

We love the pinecones and the shells

On Craigís grey slanting platter.

It came from NASCAD long ago

The timing doesnít matter.

 

The shells and pinecones never change

And neither does the holder.

They please us as they always did

Although by now theyíre older.

 

 

January 22, 2001


48.            Woozieís visit

 

Dear Woozie visited to-day

We shared the things we knew.

She helped to cook Jeanís special steaks

Her car to-day was new.

 

I spread out drawings on the bed.

And urged her then to choose.

The one of Daddy pleased the best

And then Medomak views.

 

 

January 22, 2001


49.            ĎLines and Colourí

 

When I was young I made a book

I made it in my teens.

I filled it in with poetry

And with related scenes.

 

It was no challenge at the time

To write them as I wrote.

Although to-day the subjectís good

The time and place remote.

 

The book is older than it was

Some parts are in decay.

It was called ĎLines and Colourí then

And they are there to-day.

 

 

January 23, 2001


50.            The Studio in January

 

Itís Januaryís second half

To-dayís the twenty-third.

I try to write a verse each day

Recording every word.

 

The studio is all intact

I canít do any more.

The plants are watered, all is neat

And I have swept the floor.

 

I stretched a paper, it is done

I even found a pan.

That will contain a larger sheet

Iíll stretch it when I can.

 

I hear the voices in the hall

They liven up the place.

I could draw plants & stones & things

Iíd rather do a face.

 

 

January 23, 2001


51.            Sketching at the MAA

 

I have my sketch book in my hand

My pen is filled with ink.

Iím seated at the MAA

I donít know what to think.

 

Should I attempt a potted plant?

Thereís not much in the way

Nearby a girl is on the phone

But how long will she stay?

 

I left this verse to make a sketch

That anyone can see.

I lean back in this furniture

Thatís much too big for me.

 

And Daddy will be with me here

The steady clock ticks on.

The potted plant is as it was

The phoning girl is gone.

 

 

January 23, 2001


52.            Waiting for the new lens

 

We took a taxi into town

To town and up the hill.

Our rendez-vous was seven fifteen

And it was early still.

 

For Daddy a replacement lens

Will go in his left eye.

He reads the paper while he waits

He reads as time goes by.

 

I have my knitting, this goes on

Regardless of the place.

This waiting at the break of day

Is not our normal pace.

 

 

January 24, 2001


53.            MGH - the waiting room

 

The footwear in the waiting room

Is more than youíd expect.

The boots in pairs beside the shoes

What variation next?

 

One had red slippers, neat and trim

Another leather, brown

Another, sneakers blue and white

And laced just half way down.

 

This morning when I dressed to come

And wondered what to do.

I left my bulky boots behind

And settled for the shoe.

 

 

January 24, 2001


54.            Topics for a verse

 

This January Wednesday

Thereís water in the street.

Thereís snow on everybodyís lawn

And sand beneath our feet.

 

I felt for topics for a verse

Although it takes less time

Than dealing with the meter here

And coping with the rhyme.

 

Daddyís patch is on his eye

It comes in white and blue.

He reads the paper just the same

He won at scrabble too.

 

We played the scrabble early on

To pass the time of day.

Daddy had a handsome score

Mine went the other way.

 

Daddy claims that though my score

Could not be thought sublime

It had sufficient points for me

To win another time.

 

 

January 24, 2001


55.            The Washing

 

The washing went in early on

Perhaps at half past six.

I noticed that on Daddyís sock

Thereís something I must fix.

 

Since then his shirt is hanging up

His socks are stretched and drying.

Weíre resting with our coffee now

And Iím the verse supplying.

 

The window shows the falling snow

I see the cop from here.

He helps the young to cross the street

The local school is near.

 

 

January 25, 2001


56.            Assorted thoughts

 

Daddy reads his paper on and on

He tries to check who lives and who is gone.

He reads the things they say

About the world to-day.

The radio gives weather close to dawn.

 

 

Although I write these verses very fast

I know the most important line comes last.

 

I make some socks of varied brown

I donít know who theyíre for.

But when theyíre done and finished off

Iíll start to make some more.

 

 

January 25, 2001


57.            The new tablecloth

 

We have a bran new tablecloth

With bubbles, shells and fish.

It will unfold and spread right out

For six if we should wish.

 

The flimsy plastic has a flaw

I donít know how to mend.

But if we look the other way

Weíll triumph in the end.

 

 

January 26, 2001


58.            Meatloaf recipe

 

We think it is a meatloaf day

We checked out every book.

We fingered through the hopeful file

Where else is there to look?

 

It is a while since we have tried

To serve this simple fare.

Weíre well supplied with condiments

That we would gladly share.

 

Perhaps I will just feel my way

With onion soup and meat.

And eggs and oats and things like that

It should be no great feat.

 

 

January 26, 2001


59.            Sleep

 

When I woke up I tried to match

The meter to the foot.

I still had one more line to do

And pondered what to put.

 

Which one woke up the other one

I never really knew.

He said there was some more night left

To sleep was what to do.

 

He had the bandage on his eye

Some stitches down below.

He needs the night to give him sleep

To-day weíre on the go.

 

 

January 26, 2001


60.            A lesson in washing hand-knitted socks

 

I offer socks of German Ďwoolí

I am the main supplier.

They go in the machine luke warm

But never in the drier.

 

I wash them starting inside out

And then I turn them back.

I stretch them long-wise, one by one

And hang them on a rack.

 

 

January 26, 2001


61.            Coffee-mateís new container

 

I do enjoy my coffee

Itís handy and not hid.

But now it has the claim as well

Of Coffee-mateís new lid.

 

Itís pleasing to the vision

Itís pleasing to the hand.

I rarely get an equal thrill

Itís hard to understand.

 

Itís only a container

And that canít matter much.

Itís smooth uninterrupted line

Delights the sense of touch.

 

Though in a sense Iím older

Iím not yet eighty two.

It is a thrill to see a piece

Thatís beautiful and new.

 

 

January 27, 2001


62.            A winter walk in Murray Hill Park

 

We walked up Cote St Antoine hill

You held my hand

The underneath was gritty wet

With stones and sand.

 

They slide and squeal as always when

The snow is packed.

The children and their Dadís are there

No blessing lacked.

 

The sun shines down from overhead

The sky is blue

This walk was such a jolly thing

For us to do.

 

But we recall as we come in

Our shoes have wet

And salt and sand and other things

Not dealt with yet.

 

 

January 28, 2001


63.            Cathyís Sweater

 

Cathy Lamb what a joy to me

Your sweetness and your smile!

Itís true I sew your sweater

Iíll adore you for awhile.

 

Both doings go together

The eye - hand and the heart

Itís so much nicer when youíre near

Than when weíre miles apart.

 

The sweater will be lovely

The sleeve seam will be fine.

And many more besides myself

Enjoy the silver line.

 

And something else - I undertake

This simple task for fun.

At also has another slant -

No cleanup to be done.

 

 

January 28, 2001


64.            Scrabble

 

Every day we play our scrabble

Search for words back in our mind.

Words that fit the empty places

And for us are fun to find.

 

Daddyís usually the winner so

Itís never a surprise

Perhaps heís more than lucky

Perhaps heís extra wise.

 

He does the mathematics

And every time heís right.

My diary knows early on

The one who won to-night.

 

 

January 28, 2001


65.            Studio Poem

 

I made 2 signs above the sink

With words 2 inches tall.

Imploring you to keep it clean

You didnít.You appall!

 

Perhaps oil paint is new to you.

You think it goes away.

It stays on and is getting hard

With each succeeding day.

 

I think you come some Wednesday night

Perhaps you do not care.

Itís someone elseís sink so why

Should it be clean and bare.

 

Iíll post up one more sign to-day

There seems to be a need.

It wants no more paint in the sink

I trust it will succeed.

 

I brought a knife to clean it up

At least give it a try.

You may be asking why you should

But I ask ĎWhy should I?í

 

 

January 29, 2001


66.            The Studio - A Special Place

 

A studio - a special place

Of sympathetic caring.

The input from the rest around

Is valuable sharing.

 

But it is tricky when you come

And youíre the one thatís new

And you see paint swipes in the sink -

You think thatís what to do.

 

This studioís a special place

It looks down from on high.

It takes in students from afar

So they can have a try.

 

Letís all together spare this place

And keep paint from the sink.

Remember what youíre working for

And not forget to think.

 

to-day I had a putty knife

Lent to me for the day.

It lifted blocks of heavy paint

Then they were thrown away.

 

 

January 30, 2001


67.            The Studio Challenge

 

The studio was very still

But now at half past nine.

A student came to do her art

And everything is fine.

 

I put some green in front of me

And tried to work from there.

My aquarelle had spaces in.

Thereís fewer than there were.

 

Iíve just put one more stone in place

Iíll do more background now.

But I conclude that though I try,

I really donít know how.

 

 

January 31, 2001


68.            The early bus

 

T-day I took the early bus of number 144

And with a smile was given the seat I had in days of yore.

She said her name was Sandra then, her friend, not working still

Urged her to watch out for the one who went up to McGill.

 

I may look different than I feel, to her Iím little, old.

At that time of morning I am eager, strong and bold.

However what Iím offered, gives me a lovely ride

I thank you for your kindness and your place to me supplied.

 

 

January 31, 2001


69.            A year from now?

 

I wonder if a year from now

Iíll go up to McGill.

Perhaps Iíll be prevented and

I wonít be going still.

 

I really like the morning bus

Each friendly other rider

And one who has become for me

The handy seat provider.

 

to-day it is a blowy day

And also it is blowing

And I donít know a year from now

Just where I will be going.

 

Knitting is a handy thing

And always seems to fit

So when adventures dwindle down

I can attempt to knit.

 

 

January 31, 2001


70.            The appeal of verse

 

To write in verse - it has for me

At this point an appeal.

The subject doesnít matter much

As long as it is real.

 

The challenge of the day by day

Is not an easy leap

But time is set aside for this

And some time left for sleep.

 

It seems we average more than 2

Of verses every day.

They try to tell what happened in

A brief convincing way.

 

Though some may ask a question and

They look for a reply.

But that is life - so after all

There is the what? And why?

 

It seems when it is written down

That 20 lines are few.

But the poet is exhausted now

These lines will have to do.

 

 

January 31, 2001


Sensitive Poems:

 

 

 

 

 

 

These verses offered problems

I kept them from the book.

They equally could throw away

But here you have a look.


71.            A tragic tale to tell

 

I dozed off right at walking time

I should have stayed awake.

I went out when I still was tired

It was a sad mistake.

 

Thank heavens Daddy was right there

Retrieved my bag that fell.

My words would not come out with sense

A tragic tale to tell.

 

Iím glad to be at home right now

When all is done and said.

The place that has the great appeal

Is our nice double bed.

 

 

January 26, 2001

 


72.            The Studio

 

The studio is clean enough

And relatively neat.

This I can contemplate in peace

And lean back in my seat.

 

No one is here at 8 AM

No one is here but me.

But RFMís expected soon

'Til he arrives Iíll be.

 

We have the mounting tape to put

The signs above the sink.

When thereís one more and thatís in verse

What will the studentís think?

 

to-day is February one,

Itís past 8:30 now.

And FRM has come and gone

He did it and knew how.

 

The students are not asked to think

But just to be aware.

This studioís a special place

We try to treat with care.

 

 

February 1, 2001


73.            The University Club of Montrealís Twenty-Fifth Annual Dinner

 

We reached the memberís dinner, and

We came to it with hope.

The highlight of the evening then

Was watching Louis cope.

 

The girls were healthy, focused, fast

They knew just what to do.

And stood still smartly in a row

When part of it was through.

 

As I looked on from where I sat

To me they all were winners.

With such precision and with speed

To serve so many dinners.

 

And now the morning after it

Prepares for one more day.

It has a gracious dignity

In its own special way.

 

And Louis will be there to hear

How great it was last night

And let me add that he was too

And all of us are right.

 

 

February 2, 2001


74.            From The Sixth Floor of the Education Building at McGill

 

From comfort up on level 6

I look down on the snow.

The wind has made a fancy edge

Above the roof below.

 

It also has described an arc

That moves to where I sit.

Thereís no one who is going there

To make a mess of it.

 

The sun is trying to get through

It suits it all so well.

But just the same I have to work

More on my aquarelle.

 

 

February 2, 2001


75.            My aquarelle

 

As I attempt my aquarelle

I work in words, not paint.

Within this empty studio

I exercise restraint.

 

There is no inspiration here

I try to get the feel.

Of how my set-up looked at first

I want it to look real.

 

I will return to it again

Once more and this is why

Because Iíve done it long enough

This is my final try.

 

 

February 2, 2001


76.            February Three

 

Right now it is the morning

Of February three.

I try to choose a topic

Thatís relevant to me.

 

The folded paper is to-day

Three inches thick or more.

They give a lot on Saturday

Iím glad it is not more.

 

I have to sit at the machine

Iím waiting for the light.

Three things of mine need sewing up

I hope I do it right.

 

I just sewed buttons on my smock

There happened to be six.

This is the third and final thing

I set myself to fix.

 

 

February 3, 2001


77.            Pills

 

No fooling it takes 8 a day

Of pills to keep me going.

And if these 8 can do the job

I have no way of knowing.

 

Some like to read the paper through

I havenít done it yet.

Iím busy with the here and now

The rest I can forget.

 

I used to be a mother

And still am in a sense.

But duties done in these great role

Are hardly as intense.

 

I am a wife both then and now

And watch out for the Dad.

But he makes sure with gracious charm

That all my pills are had.

 

 

February 3, 2001


78.            I am an Artist

 

Iím not an expert golfer

Iím not about to sing.

Donít ask me to play hockey

But try some other thing.

 

I really am an artist

This circles time and space.

The choice of what and where is made

The brushes, paints and place.

 

Iím all co-operation

Just give me any task.

And if you want a poem

You only have to ask.

 

 

February 3, 2001


79.            Daily duties

 

I just did the kitchen floor

Priorities pursuing.

I donít see well enough to care

Too much for what Iím doing.

 

So Iíll chop peanuts now I guess

So handy to have done.

Outside the world is brightening up

No snowfall and some sun.

 

I try hard to have a check

On verses for my book,

I couldnít hope to finish off

The game I undertook.

 

No more idling at the desk

No more Ďifsí and Ďbutsí.

The moment tells me, with great speed

To get on with the nuts.

 

 

February 3, 2001


80.            Ann Carson

 

Right now it is the morning

Of February four.

I think Iíll finish Geoffreyís socks

And then cast on some more.

 

I think about Ann Carson

What does she try to say?

She fools with words and sentences

Is that the thing to-day?

 

Iím sure the words and form she used

Were thought about and planned.

It turns out itís obscure to me

I do not understand.

 

But after 60 years have passed

It need not be the same.

And when the century is new

At least I know her name.

 

 

February 4, 2001


81.            Sunday, February 4, 2001

 

This morning Daddy shined the shoes

The old ones and the new.

But they all had to wait until

Heíd read the paper through.

 

I knit the green on Geoffreyís sock

Iím closer to the light.

I narrow down to do the toe

I want to do it right.

 

The childrenís corner caught my eye

In church to-day at nine.

The child would have to be quite tall

Then it would suit him fine.

 

But if he saw the stained glass cross

And knew that it was there.

Would climb up for a better look

On any box or chair.

 

 

February 4, 2001


82.            The Studio sink

 

I think the sink is cleaner now

Thereís paint but nothing new.

Perhaps the signs make them aware

Of what they should not do.

 

They trample charcoal underfoot

The dustpan handles that.

I drank my coffee and surveyed

The scene from where I sat.

 

 

February 5, 2001


83.            Scrutiny

 

Itís Monday and itís not yet 8

No one is here but me.

I check out last weekís work and ask

What fails this scrutiny?

 

I understand now what it is.

The shadows are too faint.

Iíll take this moment where I am

To add a little paint.

 

 

February 5, 2001


84.            The Pebble

 

Iíll lean the painting up in front

Sit back and knit and look.

It may be that this verse will go

With others in the book.

 

Iíve put more purple in the back

Itís better than the grey.

I think I should enrich the green

It seems to fade away.

 

Iíll try to make the pebble now

A slightly larger stone.

It should fit better with the rest

And not seem so alone.

 

I need a teacher.Did I learn

To steer quite clear of black?

How can I do the shadow then

That goes down at the back?

 

Iíll take a break and knit awhile

And contemplate the rock.

While with no effort colours mix

And vibrate in my sock.

 

 

February 5, 2001


85.            The joy of verse

 

In 1940 I received

From Queenís an Art Degree.

I had not written verse since then

Until this century.

 

I try to say it as it is

And then I write it out.

The Ďups and downsí of daily life

Is what it is about.

 

I like my knitting and my art

And all the joys of living.

But it fits in as well to seek

The fun the verse is giving.

 

 

February 5, 2001


86.            The Empty Studio

 

Iím in the empty studio

The verses keep on going

And there are voices down the hall

And outside it is snowing.

 

I think Iíll pack it up quite soon

Some stones Iíve done quite well.

But as for background pinks and greens

Itís hard for me to tell.

 

 

February 6, 2001


87.            Beaver pelts

 

The Education Building is

The place where teachers start.

And on the highest floor of all

Is where they do theyíre art.

 

Within the corridors you see

Their art displayed in rows.

Right now itís mini beaver pelts

And this is how it goes.

 

They make an oval with a branch

And make the curve secure.

They make a smaller canvas bit

And make it match for sure.

 

They somehow then with special skill

Sew them to stay apart

I am impressed and feel delight

At this quite charming art.

 

 

February 6, 2001


88.            Preparations

 

I live alone.Thatís how it is

And verses haunt my head.

I need more thumb tacks but Iíll work

With pins to-day instead.

 

I know about proportion and

Of small whole numbers too.

Iíll use my paper as it is

Itís Arches and itís new.

 

I normally have scissors here

I have none here to-day.

Iíll get out the X-acto-knife

Divide the tape that way.

 

I think the paperís soaked enough

My set-ups at the ready.

Iíll have the paper finished soon

Then trust my hand is steady.

 

 

February 6, 2001


89.            Focus

 

At this great age I have worked out

Some topics but not all.

There are some things I quite forget

But some things I recall.

 

My paperís ready and the paint.

Iíll pout the pencil down.

Iíll make no progress with my work

While I look at the town.

 

I came this morning on the bus

The key turned, I came in.

If I am to complete a work

Itís urgent to begin

 

 

February 6, 2001


90.            The Quiet Studio

 

A class is going down the hall

The studioís all mine.

My painting has itís undercoat

Perhaps itís going fine.

 

And 10 oíclock has come and gone

And do I have to knit?

The whole 6th floor is very still

Ten minutes just might fit.

 

 

February 6, 2001


91.            Knitting - friend or foe?

 

His doctor came long overdue

For me it was quite wrong.

My arm and shoulder bothered me.

Iíd knitted far too long.

 

No comfort reached me in my bed.

I tossed and turned until

I went in anger for a drug

And settled for a pill.

 

My knitting helps me to relax

Itís the best way I know.

But on this February morn

Itís not the way to go.

 

 

February 6, 2001


92.            Unnecessary Apology

 

These verses I write out for you

I know theyíre not the greatest.

But if theyíre in a letter then

They just could be the latest.

 

 

February 6, 2001


93.            Helpful strangers

 

to-day I took the early bus

I missed my hold and fell.

The witnesses though strangers

All treated me so well.

 

They all got to their feet and they

Just couldnít do enough -

Not only helped me to my feet

But picked up all my stuff.

 

 

February 7, 2001


94.            The new aquarelle

 

I sit back in the studio

The sunshine on the green.

The drapery is red beyond

A focus to the scene.

 

To-day I face the other way

Do apple, corn and wood.

It was all started yesterday

Iíll go on as I should.

 

Thank heavens as I paint the scene

The realís in front of me

I only have to look and paint

The colours that I see.

 

When I begin an aquarelle

To look is my intent.

The last one, started long ago

Required me to invent.

 

 

February 7, 2001


95.            The challenge of the kernel

 

I did the apple in deep red

The leaf on it as well.

No easy way to do the corn

As far as I can tell.

 

Iím drawing in the long-wise lines

And make the rest around.

And someone whistles in the hall

That was without a sound.

 

Iím still wrestling with the corn

Kernels - what amount?

I still stare at what I see

I stare and squint and count.

 

Itís ten past nine I think Iíll have

My second coffee now.

Iíll skip the cookies for to-day

And art-wise puzzle how.

 

I put a board up on a box

I had to block the sun.

Now back to kernels as they were

And will be when Iím done.

 

 

February 7, 2001


96.            The Portfolio

 

ĎPortfolioí is one more word

That has the count of four.

I need a word to use instead

And have it work for sure.

 

ĎSyllableí and Ďelephantí

Are hopeless in a verse.

But who could use Ďportfolioí ?

Its pulse is even worse.

 

I worked on this one on the bus.

I thought Iíd call it Ďcaseí

My coffee done and this resolved

Iíll go back to my place.

 

 

February 7, 2001


97.            Pens, Pencils, Brushes

 

Now I have put the pencil down

I have picked up the brush.

In total silence I will work

All focus and no rush.

 

I think I should have brought to-day

My lovely pens in brown.

Tomorrow when I come with them

Iíll put the paint brush down.

 

And Lynn came in as he had time

He liked the thing I do.

It is a challenge and its fun

And mercifully itís new.

 

 

February 7, 2001


98.            Morning before nine

 

As Iím not knitting, whyís my arm

So very mean to me?

Why should drawing bother it?

Why canít it let me be?

 

The footsteps in the hall increase

The class must start at nine

They laugh and chatter as they go

But all this space is mine.

 

 

February 7, 2001


99.            The slipper socks

 

I did the slipper socks to-day

I set the soles aside.

And with the knitting inside out

They could be washed and dried.

 

The socks have been well-washed alright

With suds and rinsing too.

But drying seems to be the thing

They have no wish to do.

 

Tomorrow is another day

The slippers have their role.

So if they take the night to dry

Iíll sew back on the sole.

 

To-day I sewed the soles back on

The slippers are not new.

The yarn I used was old as well

I hope that it will do.

 

 

February 8, 2001


100.       The Studio

 

I had my coffee when I came

Then cleaned up, more or less.

Soon after that some girls looked in

They never saw the mess.

 

They have a student teacherís day

In some room on the floor

I hear the elevator come

And then I hear some more.

 

I have my pens to do the corn

I hope not over-do.

I was encouraged yesterday

And hope for this day too.

 

 

February 8, 2001


101.       Paint brush care

 

A student went away last night

And left his brushes set.

With all their bristles pointing down

To make sure they were wet.

 

I found a vase.I squeezed them dry.

And let them rest on wood.

Whoíll tell them what to never do

Or tell them what they should?

 

 

February 8, 2001

 


102.       February morn

 

Itís very quiet, very still

I struggle with my art.

Iíve finished off my coffee now

Iíve had the easy part.

 

I could put down the brush right now

And I could grab the broom.

Heaven knows itís needed in

This great and much-shared room.

 

I think Iím making progress

I have improved the corn.

Now Iíll do the wood behind it

This February morn.

 

 

February 8, 2001


103.       The apple

 

Iíve done the apple with a shine

But whatís the corn cob shape?

And its parched leaves are not the same

Iíll have to check the drape.

 

About the brown lines in between

All these I understand.

But no one would the kernels count

That isnít what was planned.

 

Iíll narrow down the cob of corn

Iíll fill in with the wood.

Iíll put more paint to make it round

The apple is still good.

 

 

February 8, 2001


104.       The kernel

 

The verses keep on coming

I only write them down.

I darken the dark shadows

With purple, blue and brown.

 

No fooling, it is better

I like it better now.

Iíll go back to the kernels

I really donít know how.

 

Letís say the paintingís coming

The woodís within belief.

There needs to be some darker near

The withered corn cob leaf.

 

I tried to put the kernels with

A little lighter pen.

It isnít as convincing so

Iíll use the dark again.

 

I think Iíll pack it up right now

Itís nearly half past ten

Tomorrow I will one more time

Return to it again.

 

 

February 8, 2001


105.       Snow strip

 

He tells the silly toaster

To get with it at the start.

I with impatience urged the bus

It did not know its part.

 

At last it came and picked me up

I was completely chilled.

But Iím where I was going now

The journey was fulfilled.

 

And what a great surprise to find

The snow formed in a roll.

With ridges regularly placed

Not witnessed by a soul.

 

I put a phone call back to Dad

Who would be coming near.

He took 3 pictures of the strip

Then visited me here.

 

 

February 9, 2001


106.       Complete

 

The corn cob painting seems complete

I think Iíll call it done.

Iíll wait for Lynn to comment now

I did it all for fun.

 

I had my coffee and sit back

And nine has come and gone.

Iíll think of next weekís aquarelle

A work to dwell upon.

 

 

February 9, 2001


107.       Oil paint

 

Some student left oil paint around

That proved to be a pain.

And whoís to know next time they come

If heís done that again?

 

 

February 9, 2001


108.       As it comes

 

Iím told to paint just as it comes

And trim it at the end.

So I will go by what he says

The counsel of a friend.

 

Iíll rub the wasteful pencil off

And hope it all will go.

Now I must think of what to paint

For right now I donítí know.

 

My paper was too square for me

I tried to live with waste.

It seems I didnít need to fret

Or mark it off in haste.

 

 

February 9, 2001


109.       Patterns in the snow

 

I donít see well, Iím getting old

Iím partly out of touch.

But as for patterns in the snow

I really donít miss much.

 

 

February 9, 2001


110.       My mother and the King

 

My mother was presented

In Ď30 to the King

I had just turned eleven

So it was not my thing.

 

The train had fancy Maltese lace

Her flowers were cut glass.

It was a planned and special thing

And it had come to pass.

 

Now both my mother and the King

Have passed to their reward.

Thereís far more closeness, less expense

Relating to the Lord.

 

 

February 9, 2001


111.       The snap, the loop, the safety pin

 

I wish I saw much better

Than right now I can see.

Then I could do my sewing

Much more efficiently.

 

The snap is black, the cloth dark blue

They had to come apart.

And thatís just the beginning

Iím only at the start.

 

I found a large size metal loop

Iím glad that it was there.

And now I have the hook in place

The jumperís fit to wear.

 

There was a small-size safety pin

Inside behind the link.

It gave me case to wonder why

And made me pause to think.

 

Iím all together now and dressed

Weíre going out for fun.

And Iím relieved to know right now

That I wonít come undone.

 

 

February 10, 2001


112.       Saturday - Groceries to Brunch

 

I waited for his coming

I sat beside the door

I had my knitting with me.

And did a little more.

 

Heís bringing home the groceries

An oft-repeated trip.

The wind and ice are awful

I hope he doesnít slip.

 

He didnít, I am thankful.

The things are in the fridge.

This morning it was Boucherville

We crossed the Champlain Bridge.

 

Webrunched with Tom and Emma

And Muriel and Mark.

We could not do it earlier

It wasnít just a lark.

 

 

February 10, 2001


113.       Multi-dimensional Father

 

His presentation makes him think

And focus and decide.

He does all these things very well

He may reflect with pride.

 

He helped me with my framing jag

Iím full of gratitude.

He brought provisions home

So even theyíre renewed.

 

In an hour weíll have our tea

By then it will be four.

My sock is now three inches long

By then it will be more.

 

 

February 10, 2001


114.       Setting up the still life

 

Iíll take the pine cones from Craigís plate

And set the log behind.

The stones would suit them more than shells

They are not hard to find.

 

My set-up may be undisturbed

It wonít be in the way.

The students come to work, itís true

But Iím here more than they.

 

This work will be an aquarelle

The paperís stretched already.

Iíll draw it in with pencil first

And trust my hand is steady.

 

 

February 10, 2001


115.       Sunday, February 11, 2001

 

We wore our shoes to church to-day

Avoiding all the ice.

The wind was vicious with the flags

The morning sun was nice.

 

Now we are home and Daddy works

On Tuesdayís presentation.

The colours on the heel I turned

Give me a fascination.

 

We worked together on the bed

For balance with the bedding.

At least weíll start the week off well

Who knows where we are heading?

 

The socks may finish off to-night

And Daddyís thing at noon.

Iíll start another pair of socks

But hope no speech starts soon.

 

 

February 11, 2001


116.       Verses, not prose

 

Iíll let another day go by

Before I mail this letter.

The otherís waiting on the shelf

The sooner mailed the better.

 

Because the verses seem to come

Iím out of touch with prose.

Itís like the stripes around the sock

Itís just the way it goes.

 

The oven has potatoes in

The cocoa has been had.

And I will just set the table soon

Itís just for me and Dad.

 

Meanwhile I will reduce the count

Of stitches on my heel.

To seventeen from twenty two

And then weíll have our meal.

 

 

February 11, 2001


117.       The Westmount Library

 

My pens are at the studio

I didnít bring them back.

So even though my paperís brown

Iíll have to draw with black.

 

Westmount Libríy is a place

We donít expect to knit.

I could of course stay here alone

Though boring, it would fit.

 

I have my knitting just in case

No one sat still for me.

And then it wouldnít be my fault

Iíd idled peacefully.

 

I did my best.Itís half past three

We came at half past two.

The pen will write.It fails to draw.

Itís very fine and blue.

 

My loved one is beside me now

The sun shines on his back.

I never got his elbow right

No one is keeping track.

 

And now it is three forty five

He will be late for tea.

No one will notice if I knit

Iíll do it quietly.

 

Heís packing up at four oíclock

He has his coat on now.

I will get together too

Itís easy.I know how.

 

February 11, 2001


118.       The marker Ö in the library

 

I tried to do a student,

With marker occupied

The colours pink and blue and green

And probably quite wide

 

The sun is pouring on my back

And on the marker too.

The pink and green are at the ends

How does he work the blue?

 

I see the marker better now

Itís yellow, pink and green.

Itís a three-pointed handy thing

A circleís in between.

 

I was quite wrong when I assumed

He could apply the blue.

Itís just the disc to help him choose

Just what he wants to do.

 

Heís working hard, he doesnít know

What I am busy trying.

Iím fascinated by his face

The subject heís supplying.

 

 

February 11, 2001


119.       Pant hem

 

My pants had work done on the hem

The pants I wear each day.

The thread had started to give up

But now they are OK.

 

 

February 11, 2001


120.       The lost glove

 

I found some frozen gloves to-day

Where Penfield crosses Peel.

My tried display had no success

They had a solid feel.

 

I brought them with me when I came

So they would thaw with me.

And then the fence would hold them up

To let the loser see.

 

Theyíre white with flowers at the back

The frontís a filthy grey.

I hope they have another pair

To keep them warm to-day.

 

 

February 12, 2001


121.       The Studio

 

The studioís as tidy as

It was on Friday noon.

Itís not exactly cozy yet,

I hope it warms up soon.

 

I brought my pine cones to arrange

With stones just as I said.

But find there are some pine cones here

So Iíll use theirs instead.

 

I put a watercolour board

To be a pleasing base.

Iíll find a plant to give it green

And fill the empty space.

 

Itís not yet nine, Iíll have my drink

It might just warm me up.

Iíve sketched most of the painting in

Iíll reach now for my cup.

 

I hear some footsteps and I hear

The elevator door.

Iíll knit another inch or so

Before I do some more.

 

 

 

There are two inches at the left

Between the log and frame.

Iíd rather not fill in with green

As that would be the same.

 

At this rate as I sit and knit

This blank space is no threat

Within this silent studio

Iím really not there yet.

 

I watered all the plants to-day

I felt it only fair.

They have been parched all weekend long

As nobody was there.

 

I need some horizontal lines

To balance off the rest.

My knitting would accomplish this

Perhaps that is the best.

 


February 12, 2001

 

 

 


122.       Presentation day

 

My plastic palette underneath

Supports my pencil tries.

There are some voices in the hall

Itís empty otherwise.

 

My knitting isnít with me now,

Itís in my set-upís plan.

Itís just been drawn and painted in

Iíll take it when I can.

 

Iím using the Venetian blind

To spare me too much sun.

My painting has some in the back

The first time itís been done.

 

To-day we lunch together so

Weíre at the MAA.

Itís not completely regular

This Presentation day.

 

I trust it all goes well with him

And after, heíll relax.

Iíll paint as I can paint for now

Then follow in his tracks.

 

 

February 13, 2001


123.       The Visit

 

He came to visit up the hill

It was so nice for me.

He liked my set-up and approach

And had a chance to see.

 

He went off to attend his class

Encouraged, I went on.

I think the studentís steps nearby

From here are also gone.

 

 

February 13, 2001


124.       The New Work

 

This morning I will have my drink

And snack at five to ten.

And after that I will approach

My painting once again.

 

And I have many brushes

That fail to keep their tip.

My coffee is a pleasure

Iíll have another sip.

 

Perhaps to paint a strand of wool

Should be an easy trick.

Some strands are quite believable

But others are too thick.

 

 

February 13, 2001


125.       The painting - log, stones and sock

 

To-day itís not 9:30 yet

And lunch is not Ďtil noon.

Iíll have to fix the curve in front

It seems some out of tune.

 

It is the log I talk about

The basic curve is round.

Thereís no fault with the way it is

Or just what log was found.

 

Itís alright now. Iíve done some stones

The sockís there from before.

I think Iíll work at pine cones now

When I go back for more.

 

How many colours come in stones!

Incredible but true.

Iíve used the ochre and the pink

The purple and the blue.

 

I wonder who would like this work

That I do just for fun.

It has Annís sock beside the log

So she might be the one.

 

 

February 14, 2001


126.       The empty studio

 

If I have pen and paper here

Iíll write as I go by.

Within this empty studio

Thereís no one to say ĎHií.

 

My knitting doesnít talk to me

Though I may talk to it.

And it is fun to look across

The city for a bit.

 

That doesnít get the painting done

The stones are out of place.

Iíll rearrange them and keep on

So there will be no trace.

 

 

February 14, 2001


127.       Poem to Cathy

 

This weekend hasnít happened

Thereís nothing to regret.

Thereís so much to remember thatís

So easy to forget.

 

Ask to see my brown with stones

My red flowers not yet done

My dockyard book from Ď35

Some poems for the fun.

 

I have a single turquoise sock

With questions what to do.

Iíll do whatever you suggest

The person will need two.

 

Your Nancy cookies wait high up

Green cards are also there.

Make sure you check the album out

I know you always care.

 

 

February 14, 2001


128.       February 15, 2001 - the evening

 

To-night dear Daddy plans his speech

My sock is varied blue.

I made more progress with the first

And with the second two.

 

We didnít need more snow to-day

Perhaps it was quite wild.

But we are glad itís warming up

Weíre thankful that itís mild.

 

I think in Daddyís reference book

The print is much too small.

For me it would be hopeless

But he copes with it all.

 

The heart man is expecting me

To-morrow afternoon.

And Daddy will come with me there

It canít be done too soon.

 

 

February 15, 2001


129.       Your Letter - poem or prose?

 

If you would like your letter done

In verse instead of prose.

All you have to do is

Let me know before it goes.

 

 

February 15, 2001


130.       An evening verse

 

As I write verse I silent sit

While Daddy plans his speech.

Heíll like to have it said and done

Thatís closer to his reach.

 

Heíll want to watch the news at ten

Right now itís quarter to.

I think this poemís long enough

This try will have to do.

 

 

February 15, 2001


131.       Valentines

 

The Valentine from Jenny

has colours bold and bright.

You feel them with your finger

You put them in the light.

 

Behind it wrapped in shinny red

Is Joanís marshmallow heart.

With chocolate all around it

We only need to start.

 

There is one each for us of those

Perhaps weíll each share twice.

What ever happens will be fun

It will be really nice.

 

 

February 15, 2001


132.       Knitting

 

The wool that I am knitting now

Sweet Cathy chose and sent.

It has two blues, two greens and black

And stripes is its intent.

 

The stripes are mostly two rows wide

The black is in between.

And this makes three stripes at a time

So far thatís what Iíve seen

 

These are for Craig when they are done

Whenever that will be.

To-day Iíll cast on Emmaís top

Theyíll knit concurrently.

 

This morning Daddy bats the bird

And sees his friends there too.

Weíll go to Brickpoint later on

Then start the top size two.

 

Meanwhile the socks are something new

The coloured stripes appear.

I trust they will be fun for Craig

With art in his career.

 

 

February 19, 2001


133.       Colours

 

The snow has stopped, the world has warmed

Craigís other sockís begun.

We hope to check out Brickpoint yarn

For Emma and for fun.

 

To make Craigís socks is a delight

The stripes are planned ahead.

With blues and greens and blacks lined up

though they left out the red.

 

However as it happens now

For Emma red will do

And I might make a cousin top

And that could be red too.

 

Daddyís at his class to-day

Then at his Club will dine.

By then it may have brightened up

Perhaps the sun will shine.

 

 

February 20, 2001


134.       Daily verses

 

Itís no big deal to write a verse

It was the new year plan.

It must relate to daily life

Iíll do the best I can.

 

The Cardiologistís our host

On March the 12th, a Monday.

A date to circle and observe

And loaf about all Sunday.

 

Our social calendar so far

Has not reached March 12 yet.

This week is Kingston by the train

A thrill we wonít forget.

 

Gemst called to say our orderís done

Itís mostly Wozzieís framing.

But thereís the logs in brown we left

Iím at a loss for naming.

 

 

February 20, 2001


135.       February 21, 2001 - the morning

 

Daddy left for badminton

Just now at eight fifteen.

Heíll be with me for lunch at noon

Iíll knit socks in between.

 

To-morrow is our Kingston trip

Iíll knit more on the train.

And look out on the countryside

Enjoy its charm again.

 

The washing did at breakfast time

the dryingís doing now.

I make Craigís socks with stripes in them

The fancy yarn knows how.

 

This sockís along around the heel

The other sockís begun.

To watch the stripes appear and grow

Is easy and itís fun.

 

 

February 21, 2001


136.       Kingston train ride

 

this afternoon we take the train

And go the Kingston way.

Weíll have a chance to see our kin

And have a chance to stay.

 

This morning will be cookie time

While Daddy takes his class.

Iíll make a batch of sunflower seeds

The highest level pass.

 

Theyíll travel in a Round Top tub

That settles under knitting.

If there are extras they may fit

Beside where we are sitting.

 

When they are done I have to think

Of what I need to bring.

Iíll try to focus and be sure

To think of everything.

 

 

February 22, 2001


137.       Janetís Birthday

 

This morning Janetís birthdays

The sun shone on the snow.

And early to her special room

Was where we longed to go.

 

The sounds and sights at leisured pace

Like rollings in the deep.

Drew us into the orbits path

And tempted us to sleep.

 

The Kingston mansions made of stone

With handsome pillars too,

Remind us of walks weíd had

When our romance was new.

 

And Dugald senior lunched with us

Then showed us his new home.

There was so much to see and feel

He left us free to roam.

 

 

February 22, 2001


138.       Janetís Party

 

This morning was a party

With crepes in candle light.

We all were in Verona

The snow was deep and bright.

 

Anne and Geoff received us

To feast with them at eight.

And Jack and Janet drove us

We didnít hesitate.

When J & J were urged to stay

They didnít hesitate.

 

It seems the birthday girl was on

The plastic chair all white.

And as she settled in her place

She disappeared from sight.

 

 

February 24, 2001


139.       Train ride back to Montreal

 

We ride a train to Montreal

At 10 oíclock at night.

I have a tray to write on

Itís noisy here but bright.

 

Dear Jack and Janet brought us

They waited for the train.

We slept with them for three whole nights

Now we go home again.

 

In Kingston Janetís birthday

Was a great feast to share.

We went to Minoís restaurant

So lovely to be there.

 

Another party happened

To celebrate the day.

This one was in Verona

But there the chair gave way.

 

The candlelight was everywhere

And laughter filled the air.

But this changed to hysteria

For the performing chair.

 

 

February 25, 2001


140.       A verse a day

 

I planned to write a verse a day

Each day I should.

If I think rhythm and think rhyme

I might get good.

 

To-dayís verse number hopes to be

One thirty eight.

Iíll let this pass this Monday night

And not be late.

 

 

February 26, 2001


141.       Dust

 

To-day I went for blobs of dust

With paper towels quite wet.

Theyíre lighter than the vacuum

And havenít let go yet.

 

I passed the mop beneath the bed

It helped me with my try.

But after that the sodden towel

Made sure no dust got by.

 

 

February 26, 2001


142.       Tuesday projects

 

to-day I see my dentist

And Dad does history.

His class will keep him busy

Weíll meet again for tea.

 

The eye man sees him after lunch

Which is for me no fuss.

And Dave goes on to Trois Rivieres

And leaves our lamb with us.

 

The raisin cookies are quite low

A project for to-day.

Now Daddy writes to Craig and Ann

To send it on itís way.

 

Craigís socks and verses and my note

Will be with Daddyís gone

The parcel is addressed and stuck

And has the postage on.

 

 

February 27, 2001


140.Wednesday

 

I have been knitting Emmaís top

To-day itís Cathyís mending.

I sat at the machine and sewed

A pleasure with an ending.

 

The light was good, the needle new

That project now is done.

Iíll write about it in a verse

So far the only one.

 

At five oíclock dear Tom will come

To get us in their car.

Theyíll serve us dinner in Dorval

How nice our people are.

 

We have some raisin cookies here

Weíll take them when we go.

I also have a sketch of Scot

Heís someone that they know.

 

 

February 28, 2001


141.The day of Daddyís test

 

This morning is a strange one

For Daddy has a test.

They donít allow him food or drink

Itís not life at its best.

 

This is my day for Lionel

And Cathy comes with me.

And I will knit on Emmaís top

And work progressively.

 

Right now is coffee time for me

And Cathy has hers too.

She sits to exercise her knee

Her idle times are few.

 

Perhaps when we are home at noon

Weíll hear of Dadís return.

And just what his affliction is

By then we hope to learn.

 

Itís Lionel who does my hair

And keeps me groomed and neat.

I last until 2 weeks from now

When heíll do a repeat.

 

 

March 1, 2001


142.My keys

 

My keys are different colours

A silver and a gold.

I must remember which is which

To come in from the cold.

 

The gold one which is really brass

Will open our door wide.

But strangely turns the other way

Before you get inside.

 

So when you leave you have to know

The golden key turns left.

Itís urgent with the key in hand

To be aware and deft.

 

 

March 1, 2001


143.Daddy called

 

To-day is March the second

The washingís in the dryer.

And I knit Emmaís sweater

Once more a main supplier.

 

Daddy called us early

Theyíre keeping him in there.

A hospitalís no fun place

But gives the best of care.

 

Weíll see him later on to-day

Heíll be awake by now.

Weíll take a taxi there and back

Weíre more familiar how.

 

To-day is Friday. It was nice

That we could hear his voice.

Heíll be there until Tuesday next

They offered him no choice.

 

 

March 2, 2001


144.Tom

 

How lovely Tom that you will come

To visit us to-day!

Itís hard to have dear dad laid up

Though Cathyís here to stay.

 

There are 3 verses of this time

You could ask to have read.

There are new paintings, one is hung

With stones and blossoms red.

 

We heard from Joanie early on

Her letter came to-day.

She told us of her life at school

And to of the ballet.

 

We read it all to Daddy when

We stood there at his side.

He walked with us all down the hall

His view is far and wide.

 

 

March 2, 2001


145.McGill Studio

 

Weíll take in the Gazette so Dad

Will know whatís going on.

We hope he is more settled now

And early pains are gone.

 

Then Dave will drive us to McGill

My locker open wide.

Iíll side the keys beneath Lynnís door

When we have whatís inside.

 

I have enjoyed the studio

For twenty years or so.

And it is sad to say Ďgood-byeí

To so much that I know.

 

They have been very nice to me

Tondino and the rest.

And Lynnís response the other day

Was gracious as the best.

 

He urged me to keep on and so

Iíll draw without restraint.

And it may be as time goes on

That I will even paint.

 

 

March 3, 2001


146.McGill Studio

 

To-day Dave drove us to McGill

We had 2 keys along.

We opened up the studio door

Inside the sun was strong.

 

The plants were thriving and quite green

The droppings were quite brown.

We opened up my locker there

So much to carry down.

 

We had bags and portfolios

Thank heavens that we did.

The keys and verses fitted in

Beneath Lynnís door and hid.

 

I took a picture of the work

Another by the street.

With all the baggage round about

My dear ones at their feet.

 

We do not know exactly where

It all will go from here.

But Iím so thankful what we need

Can suddenly appear.

 

 

March 3, 2001


147.Blessings

 

Dear Daddy is in hospital

A think he would not choose

But there are blessings on the side

That none of us refuse.

 

Weíve had calls on the telephone

That come from coast to coast.

They gave delight to Daddy too

Whoíd rather be their host.

 

But Joanie said that she would come

When Cathy has to go.

Though Daddyís answer seemed quite vague

It told us Ďyesí not Ďnoí.

 

Now he looks forward to see Joan

Weíll phone her when she wakes.

It is a further blessing

That Joanie undertakes.

 

This is a Sunday morning

The drapes are washed and hung.

A blessing Dave provided

So nimble and so young.

 

 

March 3, 2001


143.       Daddyís repair

 

We seem to think 12 staples

This morning in the spring.

Letís think of nutrients we need

Or any other thing.

 

We think too of an 8 inch seam

It happens all the time.

There are repairs in pants and tops

And my machine sublime!

 

The seam was very flat and smooth

The surgeon was content.

But weíll return to cloth and thread

For that was our intent.

 

We donít write verses talking pain

Or boredom that we meet.

Letís stay with nourishment and clothes

And try not to repeat.

 

The pencils that were blunt for us

Have points now and are many.

Tom and Cathy did it all

Before we had not any.

 

 

March 4, 2001


144.       ĎIíd like Greekí

 

Perhaps there was a class in Greek

That Queenís tried hard to fill.

This I knew not at the time

And now I never will.

 

We sat there with the registrar,

No thought that I would speak.

My mother and the registrar

Had heard me ĎIíd like Greekí.

 

So much was new in Ď36

A college and a town.

When I said ĎGreekĒ she looked my way

And then she wrote it down.

 

 

March 5, 2001


145.       Rhyme Dictionary

 

Iíll comment on the dictionary

Thatís done to help with rhymes.

And I have often needed help

And tried it many times.

 

I like its colours and its plan

Iím glad that it was done.

But when I need a special word

It hasnít had the one.

 

So far I havenít given up

Itís there for my next need.

I really hope next time I look

My searching will succeed.

 

 

March 5, 2001


146.       Pretty, cool or school ?

 

My Motherís wish was that I wed

Someone she liked with class.

And that I should be chosen soon

And all this come to pass.

 

She thought a suitor would withdraw

From one with too much school.

She felt I should be pretty

She felt I should be cool.

 

From then she waited seven years

As anxious as my Dad.

My loved one lives with learning

What blessings I have had!

 

 

March 5, 2001


147.       Marguerite

 

Dear Marguerite I write a verse

To thank you for this book.

I like to hold it in my hand

I find it when I look.

 

The glossy cover with the grapes

Is full of verses now.

Iím past one fifty as it is

I really donít know how.

 

Some pages are still left for me

For verses that are new.

Iíll copy this one in the back

Then copy it for you.

 

 

March 5, 2001


148.       Poem from Craig

 

It seems that now I sometimes write

In verses to my kin.

They go along quite easily

I only must begin.

 

To-day from far away we had

A message, far from vague.

The rhyme and meter, a delight

And it had come from Craig!

 

I never knew we had this link

With poems as with art.

It seems that something newís begun

It only had to start.

 

 

March 5, 2001


149.       Daddyís home

 

It feels so nice with Daddy home

Tom brought him through the snow.

Itís such a joy to have him here

Now no one needs to go.

 

And Emmaís sweater comes along

The shoulder seams are pressed.

I have the underarm to do

And finish off the rest.

 

And Daddy leans back in his chair

His flowers give such delight.

Outside is snowy winter wind

We all stay home to-night.

 

 

March 6, 2001


150.       Emmaís sweater

 

We visited with Emma on February 10

From that time on I planned to make a sweater

To-day is March the seventh, the sweater is complete

Iím glad because the earlier the better.

 

Her favírite colourís mine as well

I always favour red.

Iíll go back now to making socks

The way that Sandra said.

 

She wants the sixteen inches tall

The foot will have to fit.

I trust my two-year size does well

And Emma treasures it.

 

 

March 5, 2001


151.       Cathy and her exercises

 

Cathy made a knitting bag

She opened the machine.

She sewed around and at the top

Itís colourful and clean.

 

She liked the one I had for me

She matched it up for size.

Then she put ribbon through the top

She found with our supplies.

 

I lean back on the couch and watch

The sketch her pennies count.

They tell the number that she does

And on and on amount.

 

I add this on, on March the 9th

To cope with the surprises.

The number I just wrote about

Are Cathyís exercises.

 

 

March 9, 2001


152.       Sandraís flashy socks

 

Sandraís socks are starting

With brightness at the top.

She doesnít worry what I add

Right from the start to stop.

 

Theyíre something that she wants to have

She wants to have for fun.

In this she wants to be unique

To be the only one.

 

Itís part of her identity

To have a flashy shin.

Her socks will be all colours

And flash as they begin.

 

March 8, 2001


153.       Daddyís flowers

 

Daddyís flowers had a kind I never saw before

Now theyíre by the window in the light

The petals are quite yellow but with a red design

We gaze on so much beauty with delight.

 

The basket holds the pink and white, the pink ones in a spray.

We put the big red blossoms in a dish

We live with all these colours on this our cloudy day.

They give us all the pleasure we could wish.

 

They were a joy by Daddyís bed

And now theyíre with us here.

We think of Ann, we think of Joan

And how we hold them dear.

 

 

March 8, 2001


154.       Rockcliff

 

The Rockcliff school first lacked a gym

So thatís the winter when

I went down to the Y for this

Each Saturday at 10.

 

I took the streetcar into town

My birthday came in May.

The mouthorgan was my great love

I gladly would display.

 

Each month I had a dollar bill

I knew what I would buy.

A mouthorgan in G and C

I wore them out, thatís why.

 

Then one day with my birthday near

A dog was shown to me.

It was an Irish Setter and

As silky as could be.

 

It seems I could have either one

And chose the music thing.

It seems I played it all the time

I wasnít meant to sing.

 

An older friend who rode with me

Came by late in the day.

He had the silky dog along

For this my special day.

 

This was the only dog I had

And Tony was his name.

The pleasure we all had with him

For all of us the same.

 

Tony was really ďAntoniaĒ

He really was a she

An older friend who rode with me

Came by late in the day.

He had the silky dog along

 

 

March 8, 2001

 


155.       Jim in town

 

We walked down Lansdown Road to-day

Up Cote St Antoine Hill.

And then on Sherbrooke we came east

The sun was shining still.

 

We go to Tom and Joanís to-night

With Cathy, Dave and Jim.

Vancouver is a long way off

Imagine seeing him.

 

 

March 10, 2001


156.       Esquimalt

 

Esquimalt was a lovely place

For one it had it all.

For it was bordered by the sea

And heard the sea-gulls call.

 

I rode my bike to school one year

The college was the last.

And this was in Victoria

A lot of time has passed.

 

We went out west in Ď33

Came back in Ď36.

Some dates are handy for back then

And theyíre not hard to fix.

 

 

March 9, 2001