As always, my friend Cary’s roundup of the evenings stories are a masterpiece of deep listening.
Raise a glass
In remembrance of
Fire and strip poker and getting away with it,
The parents that raised you and the parents that gave you life.
Here’s to forest floors and downtown bars
To women and their stories,
The defiantly political and the depth of the personal.
Those who came by dust and water, nourished by figs and bees
And wars, cold wars,
In memory of the chaos after wars
And personal wars,
And burning the past:
Here’s to rehab, recovery and strength.
In remembrance of trains and schnapps and naps
Here’s to the sound of choirs and standing in the rain.
In memory of worn lace and the soft security of comfort,
Of mothers. And of magic.
For lost words, last words,
Last chapters, final scenes:
For stories and understories
The told and the untold,