Today’s Poem-a-Day Prompt is to write a message poem.
A bark-stripped twig along the path
etched with the burrowers’ runes.
Creekside, the wide webbed prints
of heron’s cuneiform stamp.
Overhead, shifting shapes
of scripts in the migrating flock.
A scatter of leaves on the pavement.
The pattern of bees zipping through sun rays.
When did I unlearn this language?
When did I forget how to read this alphabet?
A message that slips out of memory
just as it reaches the back of my throat.
The last hazy image of a dream.
The world is waiting to be read.
1. Getting out there. Deciding. Starting the search.
2. I found my old resumes, my portfolio, my syllabi and course schedules from when I taught community college fifteen years ago. That old me, the younger one, wasn’t too bad. If she could do that, I think maybe the newer me, the older one, can manage it, too.
3. A new pair of shoes. I’m sort of saying that to try to mitigate the sadness that the old ones finally gave up the ghost this morning. Really, a pair of sturdy, stylish and comfortable shoes that lasts for ten years–there’s some deeper meaning there.
4. Opening doors for the Universe to pour in. (Oooops. I accidentally typed “pout” there. Heh.)
5. That poem by Mary Oliver about death, about being married to amazement.
May we walk in Beauty, in Amazement!