|I made this photo of a bride's veil last April.|
Unknowable script on a white page.
...is Poetry Friday.
On the page of snow
the wet, black hem of my coat
writes words I can't read.
• • •
In one of my online bios it says that my poetic license was revoked—for good reason. It does not state what that reason was. The first-order reason was that I love the joke; the second, more important, reason is because poetry takes time. And experience.
The little thing above (I won't call it haiku.) was written in a moment while walking. I had occasion to turn back upon my tracks and saw that my footsteps had been swept away by my coat. What remained was a dark and curling script of shadow and wet on the blanket of undisturbed snow.
• • •
ibraries and librarians including those who work in museums. Last September I met the poets at KidLit Con and started participating in Poetry Friday. My life is different because of that. I have started to recover my poetic license. Each Friday, I have made time for poetry—and I have been rewarded in experience.
A special happy poet's anniversary to Amy at the Poem Farm, who wrote 365 poems in the past year. She is the host of Poetry Friday this week. I wish you many happy returns, Amy.
And to all the poets, thank you.