Writer’s Memo: I am spending part of this summer immersed in a class called The Colorado Writing Project. Playing with poetry has been just part of the gift of this course.
I grew up in a house surrounded by woods. When I was a child, I loved to play and explore out back. For many years, a wooden swing set lay way out in a clearing, not visible from the house, which made it wondrous to a child.
Today, I wake worried and anxious. I watch the news with deep disappointment and fear; I am sad down within my bones. Today’s poem captures a feeling of childhood, of pure joy. This is what I want to remember as I move through the minutes of today.
“Backyard”
What made it so great
was that
there was not a single
blade of grass.
Ferns
and
hostas
and
vine
and
trees, yes,
so many glorious trees.
The stepping stone path curved like an S,
and you had to go through
the dark part first.
But if you made it to the clearing,
you were
handsomely
rewarded-
A wooden swing set
Pump
Swing
Pump
Swing
Until your shoes kissed the blossoms
of the crabapple.
Magic.
Friends, I hope you find innocent joy in your day today. And in the more sustained moments of worry, please consider donating here to help:
