What a great time!
Everyday a new poemflung out to the universe
let loose, to settle
on our shoulders – tongues –
in the corners of eyes.
Things we thought unsayable
coalescing into a great swell
across fields of sorrow and joy.
Memory planted – rooted
like sycamore, oaks, pine,
into our consciousness,
rising up to light us all.
I’ll miss the shared poems
of friends – words from
writers new to me,
this sharing, this long luscious ride
in the pony cart of life
along the highway of free-verse,
rhyme, poignant prose and haiku.
Though this month is gone
we will remain faithful
to the things which move us.
We’ll come together again
pen on paper scratching
to define ourselves.
Until next April
may the metaphors be with us,
every one.
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