I love beginnings. I love new journals and the feeling of starting a new planner. I love the possibility of something new, and the beautiful organization of starting at the beginning and working sequentially through something.
This month, I’ve decided to tap back into the creative roots that once upheld me, and to do so by beginning to writing poetry again. It’s a practice I haven’t done regularly since college (hashtag: English major) and certainly not one I’ve ever done more publicly than in my own classroom back when I taught creative writing.
Everything in me wishes this inspiration would have struck me on August 1st, so the challenge of writing a poem a day for a month could be neatly tucked within the 31 days of August. But, it didn’t. It struck me last night and has held onto me all day. I could wait until September begins, but I know I would lose whatever prompting to capture life now is, well, prompting me. I would miss this, whatever this is and whatever this will be. I could write these quietly, privately, and maybe some days I will. But tonight, I’m inviting you in: to August 9th, and to join me in a practice of presence for the next season of life. I would love to read your words, if you would be willing to share them as a gift in the comments below or via email.
August 9th – A Pantoum
the summer haze is lifting
the berries are ripe
the stars returning
my heart’s August delight
–
the berries are ripe
Hallelujah, they cry
my heart’s August delight
pick sweet provision, then lay down to rest
–
Hallelujah, they cry
the stars returning
pick sweet provision, then lay down to rest
the summer haze is lifting
Louise in the Light 