Early January, a mix of cold and snow, rain and clouds, muffled grey days with moments of piercing sun rays, glimpses of blue sky, frosted windows, feathery ice patterns, coffee and scotch, heated blankets and movies, family games of Dominoes and Sorry, hitting snooze, dealing with damp laundry, and more.
Icy, wintry roads have meant less cycling for me, which in turn has meant having less access to that creative space I slip into when I get on a bike, an action that keeps my body busy and allows my mind to just wander, observe, and make connections.
To make up for this, I’ve been focusing on finding images that capture my attention, writing them down, and then playing with them to see if I can’t somehow shake a poem out of them, or at times hammer them into the shape of a poem—a frosted window with fingerprints left on it, the frost in the corner of it wiped away so that someone could see outside, a young woman carrying a broken umbrella, ragged palm trees, their fronds bent down and looking out of place with a coating of snow on them, etc.
It's felt like a challenging week of writing for me, but here we are on Monday again, and it’s time to share what I’ve produced.
(1)
how sad
the palm trees look
covered in snow
(2)
the weight of things
holds all the broken pieces
together
(3)
your finger
on a frosted windowpane
a heart melts
(4)
near the fallen home
shaken to the ground, the stars
remain the same
(5)
broken umbrella
if only you were a broom
and I were a witch
(6)
the cold
it slaps and bites
but smells so good
(7)
a speck of sunlight
bouncing around the room—ahh …
this is how cats feel
As always, thank you for reading.