Are we there yet?
Goodness. What a week. I am quite exhausted. How are you holding up?
This week, SWAGGERS have accepted a challenge to write Nestlings in the style of Irene Latham from her book, This Poem is a Nest (Wordsong 2020).
I went into this challenge with one idea...I need a lot of words.
In the past year, I played around with Haibun and Tanka. Perfect! A lot of words to play with. My nest is a Haibun and Tanka draft. I didn't clean this draft up...as I only needed to strip words from it. Ha! But, as I read it over and over I see lots of room for improvement. If I create nestlings again, I will be sure to make sure my nest is not so drafty as Molly says.
In physical therapy, I lay on a table embarrassed over the tears coming out of my eyes. I had no specific sadness. My pain level was just five. But tears, they poured out of the corners of my eyes and down the sides of my face right into my ears.
The therapist, working my arm asked, Where is your happy place?
All my favorite ghosts are there.
You have favorite ghosts?
They gather around the fire ring on the shore where we sat in lawn chairs holding wire coat-hangers turned marshmallow roasters. They are silent. But pines tattle Aunt Diane’s secret potato salad recipe. goldenrod giggles over Grandpa’s purposeful drawl of Holy Ghost at dinner prayer that made all of us Holy Spirit raised kids look to see if there was also a wink.
Maples weep over Rick’s taking of his own lovely life…his goodbyes somewhere in the woods, embrace shaped. Uncle John’s peaceful stutter of steps rhythmic from years of monastic prayer is everywhere, everywhere, everywhere…sparks from the fire rising to the moon. Peepers trace generations in mud that we tracked home without even thinking to wipe our feet.
what can a pond do?
a family gathers round
its banks in summer
wrapping up all sun and moon
picnic for their hungry ghosts