Sometimes the name comes before the child
or before the poem. Sometimes fear comes
before the risk of the fall. Sometimes
the animal comes before it’s called.
There are days when summer sends a chill
the sun can’t warm. There are days
when winter sunlight feels more like home
than the blanket winter gives us.
Moments like this are when home
feels more like drowning
and all that should come after
seems like it’s passed too soon.
Halfway done! I’ve already had time to hate some of my writing, but I’m pretty fond of some of it too. There will be a blog in early May about the experience.