When Dana and I were sitting in a Starbucks in Seattle this weekend, I was telling her that I can't seem to write many poems about anything other than my grandmother. I guess in her death she has become my muse. I will take a nod from Sharon Olds though and will just keep going with it. Writing the words as they come.
As I mentioned here, I am trying to work with shorter poems. To strip it all away to get to the guts of what I want to say. Yesterday, as the sun peeked through the rainy clouds, I found my way to this poem...
On this day
when the sun slips through the gray
and I hear the tulips push upward,
I know this:
Though I ache to lay my hand in yours
and walk around your yard
listening
as you name each stretching green shoot,
you are happier dancing in the wind
whispering
grow, grow
********
If you haven't already, please visit Poetry Thursday and read this week's columns (and the particpants' Poetry Thursday posts too). Marilyn's words yesterday had me standing up in my little room and cheering out loud! I love poetry.
