Since I attended the Gathering of Writers at Greenbo, I have been writing poetry. Before I went I would have said "I'm trying to write poetry". Now I feel confident that I can write poetry because I've been reading a lot of it and I like mine just fine. I really like the re-discovered fact that it doesn't have to rhyme!!!!!!!
Here's my happy poem for today.
Summer Feet
the grass is cool as we run through sprinklers watching for bees in clover squealing with delight as wet hair falls into our eyes blinding us with joy * steam rises from the black top as we dance in line waiting for a frozen treat from the small white truck while “Pop Goes the Weasel” sings along * the rocks are sharp as we hold our arms out wide to help balance as we wobble across the alley to jump into a three foot pool of cold, fresh water * the mud is cool between our toes slurping as we pull out feet splashing each with no regard to false protest * the wash rag tickles as it roughly rubs to remove mud and dirt and sand from feet, callused by summer and ready for bed
the grass is cool as we run through sprinklers watching for bees in clover squealing with delight as wet hair falls into our eyes blinding us with joy * steam rises from the black top as we dance in line waiting for a frozen treat from the small white truck while “Pop Goes the Weasel” sings along * the rocks are sharp as we hold our arms out wide to help balance as we wobble across the alley to jump into a three foot pool of cold, fresh water * the mud is cool between our toes slurping as we pull out feet splashing each with no regard to false protest * the wash rag tickles as it roughly rubs to remove mud and dirt and sand from feet, callused by summer and ready for bed
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