The beauty, even of squalor

beauty
Photo from the โ€œPlaces the Mail Took Meโ€ series.

The beauty, even of squalor,
abandoned rusted chairs
and old tin cans,
climbs like a vine up into my heart
through the high tower windows
of my eyes. — Annette Marie Smith

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Moving Forward Retreat

postalcarrier

Here I am on the job, Writer/Letter Carrier. ๐Ÿ™‚
I’m so honored to have been nominated as a candidate and selected to attend the Minnesota Union Women’s Retreat! My union is picking up the tab for all expenses for this three day opportunity to network and workshop with other women to foster greater participation by women in their workplaces, unions, and communities AND I get paid for those days ‘off’.

brochure

Here also is a pic of the brochure and some helpful hints for improving the Women’s Retreat experience. I hope you notice that they specifically ask for the poetry. ๐Ÿ˜‰

Still Life: Door in Winter

snowydoorwithc

Sometimes it’s hard to disturb things,
to change the staus quo.
A still life can be beautiful in its pristine
unchangeableness.
But even the quietest door
that hasn’t been opened in the longest time
has new vines creeping across its letter slot,
has freshly fallen beauty at its feet,
has light playing across its windows
like the fingers of a goddess strumming
the strings of a harp made of rainbows and glass.
And me? I am the one who really can’t help herself,
even if it wasn’t her job,
breaking a path through the snow,
knocking on every door I come across
and leaving missives
in unused mail slots that like stubborn mouths
and sealed hearts
have stayed closed till rust rubricates their metal lips.
Don’t say I never gave you anything. ๐Ÿ˜‰
— From the “Places the Mail Took Me” series by Annette Marie Hyder