It’s wonderful that when one gets into a habit, say writing a poem a day for a month, that habit is more or less ingrained. Just one day out of April and I missed my poetry group intensely, missed the overflowing mailbox of poems! Missed the opportunity to share whatever strong poem or drivel I managed to design. So I’m trying to keep up the habit, especially since I know it will make me a better writer.
I heard somewhere (at a lecture I think) that William Stafford woke up everyday, early, and sat down to write without fail. Every day. I wonder if some days he wrote nothing but lists, like I do!
The weather, temporarily has improved. Sun and 80’s – which is unusual in the PNW this time of year. The garden plants, which have been steady in growth, practically leapt out of their roots yesterday. Nonetheless I’m glad we don’t have perfect days all the time.
The trees stand sentinel to spring
while wafting on the sudden warmth
lilacs mist the air with scent of purple.
If all the days were this
We’d surely come inurned,
turn Eden’s bower into the devil’s den.
It’s really best that rain’s deep gloom
descends upon us regular as the night,
so we can cherish each sun dripped day
each golden breath of spring’s bouquet.