(Tom's 21st Birthday, the merest beginnings of a poem that has nothing to do with him, poor fellow. I could have at least written him a birthday poem! Or not.)
Pry from me
An open-handed moment
Tire iron and fist
Full of nails for mending
Those spinnaker hearts
Caught sailing
Into the branches
Of wintering trees
(I'm feeling better about this process. I like the idea of writing crap, but then moving on the next day to more crap, instead of spending months thinking about one thing. If I can make it through the month I'll have a tidy pile to sift through, with maybe some things to keep.)
3 comments:
Absolutely! Look at you go!
Really. It's excellent NOT to dwell, but push on. enjoyed.
It's certainly an entirely new work ethic for me ;-) Thank you both for the encouragement!
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