The Phoenix Rises
Last summer I went to a potter's reunion
at Gerry Williams' house in Dunbarton.
I helped with a boat launching at night.
We made little paper boats,
wrote our hopes on them
and launched them into the pond.
Dick, my husband,
was in charge of the Phoenix bird puppet.
It was on a tall stick
with metallic streamers coming down.
He was supposed to run
up and down the river bank
while we put the boats in the water.
I had to shine a flashlight on him as he moved
the bird around.
When it was over the Phoenix had returned.
Fortunately there were no mosquitoes.
Unfortunately there was poison ivy.