among the mulch. Beautiful and varied, the monochrome never bores. Consider 26 over-used letters in our alphabet and yet, poems sprout up and sometimes, a frittata is served.
...stuff in my office I want to throw out, but can't. Letters from students. Papers from students, struggling to mix metaphors and reality in a cogent form, the form we say to use, the form they learn is right, but the form not always the familiar, and so a wrestling match with form.
Objects given to me...a box of tea, several empty tin boxes to hold pencils, a mirror from China, a small fountain called Tranquility, some smooth stones, a book tied with ribbon, some drawings, a set of journals. What else is there to be grateful for? Mt friends, my brothers and sisters, here and in heaven, my colleagues who forgive my absences, my students whose absences I forgive. My precious cats and their hunger, which means they are well and demanding all that I can provide. And, my writing...how could I ever have gotten where I am without the words that seem to flow from somewhere deep and undisciplined. How much I admire those who can read and write so beautifully. Which leads me to gratitude for this site, a companion, a place to land, an inspiration, and a living, growing document. Thanks, poetry bites...thanks again.
Finding
ReplyDelete...stuff in my office I want to throw out, but can't. Letters from students. Papers from students, struggling to mix metaphors and reality in a cogent form, the form we say to use, the form they learn is right, but the form not always the familiar, and so a wrestling match with form.
Objects given to me...a box of tea, several empty tin boxes to hold pencils, a mirror from China, a small fountain called Tranquility, some smooth stones, a book tied with ribbon, some drawings, a set of journals.
What else is there to be grateful for? Mt friends, my brothers and sisters, here and in heaven, my colleagues who forgive my absences, my students whose absences I forgive. My precious cats and their hunger, which means they are well and demanding all that I can provide.
And, my writing...how could I ever have gotten where I am without the words that seem to flow from somewhere deep and undisciplined. How much I admire those who can read and write so beautifully.
Which leads me to gratitude for this site, a companion, a place to land, an inspiration, and a living, growing document.
Thanks, poetry bites...thanks again.