Morning is my best time of the day. These are the few months where I get to spend mornings outside, walking around the yard with my coffee cup, inspecting the insides of bee balm, writing and waiting for hummingbirds to appear above the trumpet vine. Yesterday I was helping a friend with some of her poems, and we discussed our morning rituals - we both consider the early hours well-spent in moodling.
Is my domesticity showing in my poems? Yes. Like a loose slip.
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1 comment:
Awww, this just conjured up an image from my childhood. I spent a lot of time with my great-aunt Stella, who lived one block from my present home and who X is named after. Anyhow, she was a rather robust woman and always wore a slip and ALWAYS her slip strap would sip down from beneath her sleeve to her arm.
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