Untitled poem by Marija Bryant of Norwalk, CT (Marija's bio) Yesterday in my garden I thought about my parents And when they first saw my house Here on this short road. Mental calculation, years back. They were younger then Than we are now. Think of it. The years since Standing still; yet not. But how the garden has grown And how happy we are. Now, this Spring, All of us safe in our fifties. ![]() About the author:
For a living, I write corporate training programs. There isn't a lot of poetry asked for in those. I write poems in between times, whenever it seems like the right thing. I live in Norwalk, CT in an old house with a husband, Tod, two cats, Lester and Earl (named after Flatt and Scruggs) and a dog, Scarlett O'Hara (because she came from a pound in Atlanta). My family immigrated to the US as Displaced Persons from Latvia in 1950, so I'm descended from "Northern peoples." Latvians are not like Norwegians. I think we are not as serious and we sing a lot. There are numerous and endless folk songs which every child is expected to know. Having a great voice is much respected in Latvian culture. I don't, so I suppose poetry is my compromise.
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For a living, I write corporate training programs. There isn't a lot of poetry asked for in those. I write poems in between times, whenever it seems like the right thing. I live in Norwalk, CT in an old house with a husband, Tod, two cats, Lester and Earl (named after Flatt and Scruggs) and a dog, Scarlett O'Hara (because she came from a pound in Atlanta). My family immigrated to the US as Displaced Persons from Latvia in 1950, so I'm descended from "Northern peoples." Latvians are not like Norwegians. I think we are not as serious and we sing a lot. There are numerous and endless folk songs which every child is expected to know. Having a great voice is much respected in Latvian culture. I don't, so I suppose poetry is my compromise.