Parallelograms

Only another half-hour remains of this day.

All day today I have been tidying up this and that

and not getting down to serious business.

This photo was taken a couple of years ago--

it's a view of our Michigan meadow through

some of the big windows in the front room.

We might make it back there this year;

we will just have to wait and see what we can manage.

Who knows how much more serious business 

I will have time for.
This photo reminded me that Al Young on Facebook
is posting pictures he took in and through windows;
so is Marlene Mountain!
Think about this . . .

AN OLD STORY

Sleep comes its little while. Then I wake

In the valley of midnight or three a.m.

to the first fragrances of spring

which is coming, all by itself, no matter what.

My heart says, what you thought you have you do not have.

My body says, will this pounding ever stop?

My heart says, there, there, be a good student.

My body says, let me up and out, I want to fondle

those soft white flowers, open in the night.

Mary Oliver        (born September 10, 1935)

A Thousand Mornings, Penguin, 2013, page 34. (Kindle)

I was delighted to find out just now that Mary Oliver was only four days old on the day I was born. It's my cool fact of the day.

OK, now you write one!  Simple title, you could even use this one. Three three-line stanzas. Nothing fancy about the rhyme or meter; lines of irregular length. Regular punctuation, just as if it were plain prose. End with a wish or a want. . .     Good night! Spring is coming, or already here. . .