This is how winter looks - bowls of fading roses. We hang onto them, their colour, as long as we can.
The poem I want to share today is by C.D. Wright, and is called "Living." I see myself in it, every time I read it, I see my days, my weeks. Lately I've been making lists, and actually crossing nearly everything of of them. I try to put "meditate" and "read poetry" on every list. I always have "write" and "photograph" even if I don't always make it to them.
But here, read this first.
"If this is Wednesday....." she says, as though it might not be. Because, it's hard to keep the days straight, and what's to be done on which day.
From C.D. Wright's bio on The Poetry Foundation:
“Poetry is a necessity of life. It is a function of poetry to locate those zones inside us that would be free, and declare them so.”
If this is Friday, then I work at the library in the afternoon until 6pm. Which means get Chloe off to school, hurry and walk the dog, write some emails, tidy the house, shower, eat something, and run out the door. Somewhere in there I might write something down for one of the poem-essays I'm working on. I might make a list of things we need to do this weekend.
Write this on every list: Poetry is a necessity of life.
You've seen this bowl of roses many times in the last six months. The roses from our garden, plucked near the end of the season. Amazing how they still hold their colour. Maybe some people would find them a bit sad looking, but they give me hope, and remind me of what's in my yard, buried in snow.