Whenever I feel like I’m raveled up or unraveling, I walk myself back to the first knot. This works in knitting, storytelling, and so far, in life. I’m walking myself backwards this Poetry Month, while I’m brain-bleary and wincing at all that’s falling on top of me, and starting with baby pictures – of my family and friends and people I know. Of random babies. I’m going to think about innocence and grace and wobbly starts and losses and gains. I’m hopeful that this exercise will give me a little clarity. Thank you for walking with me into a new month, and a new celebration of poetry.
once upon a time
the orchestra tuned. music
sang from stubborn strings
Probably one of my favorite things from this (obviously posed) picture is the stubborn-but-sweet baby chin, and the shaggy hair over the ears, and the smudge of dirt on the five year old face (also: plaid + stripes. Oh, the seventies…). Many were the battles to come over practicing on this thing – and many battles yet wait to be fought – but the orchestra still tunes every Tuesday and Thursday, and the music still sings. The strings are less stubborn these days, though. In theory, anyway.