Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Full Of Curves

On my run today, there were ducks flying over head, loudly squawking and splash-landing into the pond rather joyously, it seemed to me.  There is a place in the pond where a pipe passes water from one side of the path to the other and five or six beautiful dark fish were undulating back and forth.  I want to say they were trout, but then I want all the fish I see to be trout and I'm not sure these were.  But they were darkly gorgeous.  I heard an owl singing about how it would cook for you, really, and a large meeting of red-wing blackbirds creating some random chorus but still full throatily singing.  Also, some sort of may-fly has hatched and unfortunately dying on my front door.  They are such interesting looking insects, with their back full of curves.  I just went out to take another look and picked it up and it flew away!  So apparently, it was just sleeping off the cold.

So I am writing a poem a day this month.  Shhhhhhh, though.  Don't tell anyone because I'm feeling very gingerly about writing these days.  I'm pretty sure poetry is quite ready to slip right out my front door and leave me forever. 

(I do have a topic, an argument really, but that's all I'm gonna say about that.  I am really pleased though because I actually wrote an abecedarian for the first time ever today!)

I got the anthology Women Write Resistance from Hyacinth Girl Press yesterday in the mail and know that the critical introduction is worth the price of the book alone.  This is gonna be fabulous, and I can't wait till May when I might actually have time to read it! 

What books are you reading?


Go every day a little deeper
into the woods, collect acorns,
twigs, thorns, fallen leaves,
pine needles, a fern's curl,
a bird's nest, a lost feather,
spring air, hot, humid air, a raindrop,
a touch of blue, a ripple,
and why not the hush
of your steps over moss,
the trembling of leaves
at dusk against black bark?

Put it all in a bag and shake it:
you will retrace your steps
within the clearing, hear frightened
flights, watch the rain darken the deck,
flatten oak leaves, answer the root's mute prayer.

Hedy Habra
Verse Daily


  1. Also gingerly writing. Still simultaneously reading When I Was a Child I Read Books, by Marilynne Robinson, and The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando Pessoa. The former helps me keep my head above the dark water of the latter.

    1. Glad to know someone else is doing so, too. We'll just tiptoe all around poetry, like we're not even here, doing it(!!!)....


Heron Tree

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