March 5, 2026
‘SUZANNE CORLEY’ Suzanne as a girl in Appalachian Mountains Rode her bike tall in the saddle. She looked out for boys and rocks And bumps to her speed. She was: Bronze and copper! Lapidary! Wind at her back! Wind in her face! Wind her challenge and wind her friend, She remains so Romantic that it hurts. Those Mountains that she left Still were her Grandma’s wit, Firelit like a fox in gloaming. Leaves and fiddles showered nights Across the Hollers. Dancing there! Still, paths OUT were of no doubt, Atlas open on her lap, Brasil a Melon pregnant before she knew its songs The Amazon, Congo, Po, Euphrates, Ganges, and on— Rivers, Lands, Voices and Strings, So beautiful that they breathe. Dancing women! Dancing men, There, too, but free and wild yet soft! She was far more than a “twat Mike’s care made love grow deep. Suzanne lays out her World Journey Over 0-Z, two hours Saturday evenings. The “songs” she plays for you and you Travel like the warm Reds and Greens— Caravaggio! Tropicalia!—Yellows and Oranges— That color walls of the Uptown house Where she and Mike host Dinners In their Garden on Sunday evenings. Suzanne rides her bike bent for speed, An egg projected over handle-bars, Many years, countless miles, Past the Cancer that itself would not quit. Flush against and with the wind, She pumps like she cooks—for joy— For freedom—for her Grandma— For smiles radiant with giving. January 2026 first in notebook April 27, 2021
