Yesterday I thought it was April 1, which was kind of hilarious for a moment, as I tried to figure out how Easter and April Fools had collided. I certainly blamed the downpour we had on the date – figuring April Fools Day was the reason they had to call off Easter Egg hunts. I was relieved to note that it was only me thinking that – as usual. It was still pouring this morning when I got the normal spate of silly emails this morning (my favorite from my very hippie Dharma Trading Company promising it was going all-digital with no humans working at the company any longer) and so the world righted itself. We have puddles, and we have poetry.
Every year I think I don’t have time to do this — but every year, the act of writing a poem a day for a month, in primarily the haiku genre, because honestly, I should be doing paid work at least SOMETIMES – reminds me that stretching ourselves in various ways always improves things. I ended up writing some stuff last year that I actually liked, but hadn’t thought to look back at until now. I like doing this. It gives me a … sort of a …journal for my life at that time, in tiny little haiku snapshots. And so, we’re celebrating together: a month of poetry. Welcome to it.
steam swirls from back steps
sun-kissed, redwood deck exhales
warmer, brighter days.