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« Poetry and the Movies: Daily Double [by Mindy Aloff] | Main | Sestina for Harry (Mathews) [by Joseph McElroy, with notes] »

January 24, 2021

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wow, what a delightful narrative poem...thanks for posting terence, and for writing anne harding woodworth...

Ah! Takes me back to my midwest girlhood. The tractor tracks and towns we leave behind.

Reminded me of my lesson in how to drive a stick shift. Great poem.

Thank you, mo chara. Glad you liked it.

Thanks, Maureen. I didn't learn to drive until age 40, and driving a stick shift was & is beyond my abilities.

Long arc of time feels poignant in this beautifully made poem.

This is the most WONDERFUL CLEAR CRISP poem about our past.
When I got my driver's license at 20, I was so terrified of the driver's test, on a hill, caressing clutch and drive pedal at the same time. I had a pink Metropolitan.
This poem carries interior lives right to the heart of ours. I love this poem.

Congratulations Anne!
I also learned on a stick shift- and never got the hang of starting up again while on a hill. A fun poem.
XX Ellen

A pleasure to read, Anne, though it sounds more rural than I remember the Summit area as being. It does capture that feeling of youth and exploration.


Thanks for the comment, Grace.

Just a lovely poem - so many memories and so sweety written.


Thanks, Ei. I can barely drive an automatic.

Well done, Anne! Brings back memories of learning to drive our first car, a VW Squareback which we picked up from the VW factory in Germany in 1967 at the start of David's postdoctoral year in Kiln. David taught me on a back road outside the city limits! Thank goodness for his patience and even temper!

Awesome, Anne. You brought back that shift and lurch, so well.

Anne, brings back memories! Learned to drive stick on Paul's antique VW Beetle when we were first married......we were in Houston.....remember stalling at intersections with traffic lights......he was very patient and after 50+ years we are still married! AND have a VW Jetta.....stick of course! One can imagine being in that car as you described it. Beautifully done!

Oh, this really brings me back...not to cornfields, but to the angst of learning to drive a stick and feeling my heart go into overdrive anytime I had to stop on a hill. Five years later I married a European, who considered automatic transmissions almost sacrilegious, so through our first 50 years I had no choice but to continue on a stick shift. My thanks to the Toyota corporation for coming to my rescue: My Prius C only comes as an automatic.

Anne, Thanks for a great poem that stirred up memories for all of us.

Glorious poem Anne -- deeply resonant and so true to life. I love how it keeps opening up and opening up and finally embraces youth, mid-life and death. Congratulations.

LOVED the poem Anne!!! When Ed and I got married and bought his parents' car it was a stick shift so I HAD to learn how to drive it. We have some fun related stories re: learning to drive stick shift SO your poem really hit home :)

Wonderful poem, Anne!! I learned to drive a stick shift later in life as I had a sporty Honda and imagined myself to be a race car driver! Ha! But most of all, I love how in one word or short phrase you speak volumes of meaning. The last line really "hit home."

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