Good Morning, World

I'm posting from one of my two private balconies at the *amazing* country inn where my staff is on retreat. I also have two bathrooms, a bed so high they give you a ladder to climb into it, and a huge whirlpool. My bath last night was literally steaming. I stayed in for over an hour.

I am never leaving.



sprinklers chirrup
mist precise English gardens
peace steals over me

Nothing Random

The (cato) prompt at Poetry Thursday this week was to use the 'randomizer' - their spiffy random prompt generator - to jump start a poem for the week. I got as far as using the randomizer, but my week got crazy and the poem is still in progress. I like where it is going, so I do plan to share it, but it just wasn't ready in time for this week.

Instead, I offer a haiku I wrote as a fifth-grade student at outdoor education. Please don't forget to check out what other PTers have been up to this week as well. Thanks!


Fossils, so unique
Indentations of the past
on our minds today

ups and downs

So, I actually had a commitment-free lunch hour today. No meetings, no errands, just one blissful hour to spend as I chose. This almost never happens, so it was a delightfully decadent luxury. And...

I walked uptown to discover that the wonderfully quirky rabbit-warren of a used bookstore is closed on Wednesdays. Grrrrr! What a disappointment.

But, on the plus side: the day is gorgeous and I got to be outside for a little while. My walk took me past the grubby little convenience store that sells banana ice cream popsicles enrobed in chocolate for 25 cents. (really. where else can you get so much pleasure for so little money.) And I came back and searched our online catalog and discovered that Natasha Trethewey's Native Guard is actually in our library and not out on loan.

So, in sum, a good hour.

Turning Flower Beds in Spring

This week was a 'free' week at Poetry Thursday. Since I so enjoyed experimenting with forms last week I decided to do it again. Dana and Liz, see what you have wrought? So, here's my terzanelle about how I spent my time last weekend. Comments gratefully accepted; I feel like I am struggling with meter.

Oh - please don't forget to check out what other PTers have been up to this week.



Turning Flower Beds in Spring

Haul rotted leaves out to the compost bin.
Old husks must go – it’s time – their gift has passed,
so clear the way for new growth to begin.

No, nothing in the earth is meant to last
forever. Seasons always change and these
old husks must go. It’s time. Their gift has passed

into the roots. They nurtured and released
their essence: birth from death, the pulse of life.
Forever, seasons always change and these

things still remain. So ply the pruning knife
without remorse. Move on; you will not scar
their essence. Birth: from death, the pulse of life

returns. Breathe in the damp and fecund air
to taste the promise waiting to roar forth.
Without remorse move on. You will not scar

the heartwood. See? Strip out the old, the coarse;
haul rotted leaves out to the compost bin.
To taste the promise waiting to roar forth,
just clear the way for new growth to begin.