Somewhere in Kansas,
a group of women sit round the table
telling stories of grandbabies, tornados, wigwams,
the importance of a good bra, the Taj Mahal, being
a yogini, joy, puppets and turning ships around full stern.
This does not seem at all odd.
It’s as natural as walking in the wind.
It’s as natural as waiting for the rain.
Sitting round the table telling stories, in Kansas,
is an everyday scene.
– Iris Wilkinson
Last week, my dear Deborah encountered a deer
I didn’t know anything about it
I was living my life
Weeding the sweet potatoes
Watching movies
Enjoying a swim at Toronto State Lake
and meanwhile, my dear Deborah crashed on the road.
Yesterday, my friend, Mark, died after a routine surgery on his knee.
I didn’t know anything about it
I was living my life
Sharing the bounty of our peach tree
Writing policies for the Behavioral Sciences Regulatory Board
Collecting money for the New Boston Food Coop
and meanwhile, my friend Mark passed on from a post-op blood clot.
Today, I am living my life
Digging up turnips
Painting the trim at the cabin
Meditating with the Buddhists
I wonder what else is going on?
– Iris Wilkinson
Iris Wilkinson lives in North Lawrence just off the banks of the Kaw River. She enjoys leading a creative writing group for the women at the county jail and is thankful for her day job as a college professor at Washburn University.
