Sunday, June 07, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle

Ignore the below post--Land of Blossoms and Breezes. Ignore the part about the warm south wind. It's so cold here on this, the 7th day of June, that my poor, confused Christmas cactus is blooming! That lovely warm wind lasted for all of one day. The temperature is now barely breaking 50 degrees, in a wind straight out of the north. Accompanied by, in case the wind should feel lonely, an icy cold rain. And the worst part is that this weather is forecast for the next week! Yes, it's poetry weather. Yes, the moisture is good. But my asparagus has returned underground, mushrooms refuse to peek above ground, the corn and squash are hopelessly stunted and I don't even want to think about the plight of once proud and tall tomatoes--can't even bear to look. I'm sure there's a poem in all this, it's just that it's difficult to write from beneath blankets and quilts. Maybe I'll just borrow this short piece from an unknown poet of the past...these are the words that started me down the path of writing poetry...the first poem that sent chills down my back, the criteria I still use today to know authenticity...
O western wind
when wilt thou blow
that the small rain down can rain;
Christ, that my love
were in my arms
and I in my bed again!


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