Poems Again

I am in the process of retiring. I have three weeks of work left, and one of those if a four-day week. The parties have been held and the responsibilities are diminishing. One revelation: I turned my last grades in and realized my life with students is just about over. I do not have to create any new syllabi and set up my online class.

I loved teaching, and it was my calling and life. But it has become a burden more than anything else. I was told I would know when to retire. I did. That doesn't make it much easier, but I know it's the right decision.

I also learned yesterday that my 14.5 year old dog has cardiomyopathy and arrythmia, so her life will not be extended much longer. This morning she had a seizure and she has picked over her food. But she still wants a walk in the evening and barks at the feral neighbor children.

It's a rainy, cloudy day and I am content to read for a while with Nala and Butter by me. And to post these two poems.

First, Sylvia Plath always has the perfect note of negativity for a basic human experience. I fell when I went to sit on a chair (rolling one that got away from me) and landed hard on my you know what.

This I found through social media. Mary Howe won the Pulitzer for Poetry; I don't consider this great as poetry but as revelatory of the soul's experience in 2025, I do.