I had a great day today, kicking off the morning with a trip to the Thumbs-Up Diner with Tom and Jason to indulge in some tasty breakfast foods...I took the train from there up to Inman Park to meet Christa for our writing group meeting. Fortunately, I was about a half hour early and it was a beautiful day outside, so I sat in the park writing until Christa arrived to pick me up. We went to a coffee shop and did a few writing exercises, critiqued some of each other's work, and afterward walked around Little Five Points in the sun. Tom met us up there so I didn't need to take the train home, and we went to REI to get me a new winter coat. Hurray! Now I'm sitting here drinking tea, preparing to read the Sunday comics after a nice sit-down with my Louise Gluck book of poems. Does it get better than that?
The poem I'm posting today isn't one that I wrote while I was with Christa, actually; it's something I just wrote a couple minutes ago. But I hope you enjoy it. I look forward to all the comments and hope more people will begin to see my poetry this way. This piece in particular is just a small exercise and hasn't been revised. With that in mind...
Happy Sunday Evening!
she brought the freshly picked
carrying it like a smaller child
in her white arms
and her sister sitting
at the kitchen table told her
in a grave, grave tone
it was illegal to pick
those strange maroon funnels
that grew behind the barn
she had always imagined
they came to life
crimson-caped women at night
she didn’t know why she picked one
she thought she might press it in the Bible
or sleep with it under her pillow
but the look on her sister’s face
was serious as their mother’s china
so she ran outside
tore the pretty flower to bits on the porch
as sirens chirped to life
somewhere beyond the alfalfa field