Saturday April 12, 2014
I took my notebook
for a walk when I went
to check the mail.
I planned to sit
on a bench near the marina
to write a poem
but the sun was an electric
blanket thrown over me
and I couldn't find my way out.
Instead, I sauntered back home
and settled in the shade
under our stilt house
to read two letters from a friend.
The first has an owl, a snail, a blue bird,
a pink flower, a tiny butterfly, a star,
and cloud stickers added for my
enjoyment. The second is framed
by colorful polka dots.
I had a hard time writing a poem
earlier when I first got up
so thought a change of scenery
would help. I was wrong. But, I'm
writing, anyway, just putting my pen
on the page and watching
the black letters emerge and curl
into words. See how I'm faking it
by enjambing the lines and dividing
them into triplets? There is a small bird
on a rain gutter across the street
warbling away, turning his head
this way and that, creating his own
poem. Wish I could, too. I glance up
but he has flown away.