American English, Elderly, Sad, Poetic, Forlorn, Woeful, 55+
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Senior (55+)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Winter solstice. A memoir and poetry by Diana Howard I Diana. I remember the important things. 2007. Her house rests quietly in the corner of an aged brick called a sack. It is ordinary, honest to me, what distinguishes it is out of the ordinary for a criminal that is. Is that an old woman lives there? A woman who is kind, forgiving and a little forgetful. A woman who can't quite tell anymore what is true and what is false? A woman who gives more than she takes for eight years. He has kept her company, taken her money. She won't press charges. Can't press charges because she feels complicit. She isn't the only one who feels that way. We helped her move. She never speaks of him again. Going home to a landscape overgrown with ivy and flowering. A juve english novels and italian sheet music scattered crumbs, old coffee stains, pieces of last night. So last week's meal, her unwillingness to shed light on her surroundings. An aroma of cat is thick in the upstairs air. A cleaning took place not long before my arrival. It appeared to be only dusting off a sweeping around, not moving anything kind of cleaning that does not address the aroma of cat, thick in the upstairs air. I long to spring lightly like that cat who silently scampers beside me. Two steps at a time. In my mother's home, I cannot feel light on my feet taking refuge. There is snow on the way, placid geese once again set a harried course toward the graying sky. They aren't fooled by this late january thaw. The lazy sun warms the cold pavement as the chilling bite disappears from the air. How flirtatious this hint of spring. Yes, there's a storm brewing and the geese know it. You can't lulla goose into a false sense of complacency. You won't see it trying to outguess a fickle wind. A goose refuge lies hidden in a stand of prairie grass, where curls in wood, tucking its head under its mates down feathers.