The Widow's Handbook

 My friend and fearless reader, Stacey, gave me this book of poetry.

I opened it to this poem:

THOSE DAYS

by Mary Oliver

When I think of her I think of the long summer days
  she lay in the sun, how she loved the sun, how we
    spread our blanket, and friends came, and

the dogs played, and then I would get restless and
  get up and go off to the woods
    and the fields, and the afternoon would

soften gradually and finally I would come
  home through the long shadows and into the house
    where she would be

my glorious welcoming, tan and hungry and ready to tell
  the hurtless gossips of the day and how I
    listened leisurely while I put

around the room flowers in jars of water --
  daises, butter-and-eggs, and everlasting--
    until like our lives they trembled and shimmered
      everywhere.

I liked coming first to this poem because Will appears in it three times (to my eyes). 1) as the Mary Oliver character in it, with her connection to the earth and flowers.  Will was deeply carnal and earthy, of the earth.  He cooked well, grew things well.  He loved growing vegetables and flowers.  The first spring of our marriage I dug up a garden area of the lawn of his house in Pocatello and he planted tomatoes, squash and corn.  

2) The character of her deceased wife also makes me think of Will because she likes to gossip as did he.  3)  And then the relationship itself, with it's loving loseness, reminds me of Will's and my relationship -- allowing each other freedom until the dementia made freedom almost impossible for either of us.

As a poet I also like the enjambed tercets -- their stumbling quality feels like grief to me.  And the sudden fourth line stumble stop on "everywhere" actually reminds me of some of my poet's tricks.