When all the world seems in flux,
and the river is high and flooded
past the shores of Arkansas,
calm sunset on the Mississippi
They say it’s the cruelest month… The showers bring the flowers. Typically, it’s tax month. It begins with April fool’s day (today). It’s National Poetry Month. It’s the month of my mom’s birthday. It’s also the month my fiancee, B, left, the month her husband passed. Also the month Kurt Vonnegut passed (same day B left). In these crazy times, it looks to be the month that the US will see its greatest losses from Coronavirus.
Not having a garden, I’m not nearly as concerned about the showers. I’ll be paying attention to our politics and the outbreak. Of course birthdays and sombre anniversaries. I’m going to also set some goals with respect to poetry. I’d like to write at least 5 new poems over the course of the month – that feels manageable. I’d also like to submit poems to a few journals (maybe 3). I submitted to one last month, but need to be more active in pursuing that avenue if I expect to be published. Unfortunately, for many journals, the decision time is about half-a-year, so instant gratification isn’t much of a motivation. I also hope to post more snippets and pieces of poems as well as links – should all three of my readers want to check out some decent writers. Tonight I’ll share screenshots of the poem “Coming Home” by Mary Oliver:
