From one challenge to the next! While I plan to continue writing small stones daily, tomorrow I will begin the short and sweet NaHaiWriMo challenge, for National Haiku Writing Month. I plan to write a haiku a day, although due to rules about haiku appearing anywhere on the web being considered published, I only plan to re-post already published haiku, and write my new ones in my haiku journal. So for the next 28 days, look for haiku here. (and small stones, and weekly poetry prompts…)
Today is not only the last day of January, but also the last day of the River of Stones challenge. I had few expectations when I began the challenge on New Year’s Day. It simply seemed like a fun way to start the new year– a break from the post-holiday doldrums and the ubiquitous gray skies. What it turned into was moments of clarity, awareness, and connection with others from all over the globe. All that I could have hoped for and more. And so I’ve decided to continue with the daily “small stones”– little snippets from my everyday life. I’ll be posting them here.
as i walk the track, i resist the impulse
to count laps. for the next hour at least,
i will not be bound by expectations.
I’ve had my blog for almost 2 years now. I felt like it was time for a change. So I changed themes. Same blog, new look. What does anyone think? It feels a little strange to me right now, but I think I like it. The lovely thing about WordPress is that you can always change it back whenever you want, or try something else. 🙂
I pause to listen to the sound of geese overhead
announcing their presence. Are they back,
or have they never left?
I carefully reach into the package and select a new sponge
to replace the old one. Yellow. For sunshine. A girl can dream.
rain-soaked lawn. wet maple leaves hitch a ride, on the soles of my shoes.
The Big Tent prompt for this week was to take a photo and write about it from the point of view of the photographer. This was a fun one as I’ve been looking through old photo albums all this week. I was originally going to write about my long ago relatives (and I still might some time!) but the photo that caught my attention was one I look at every night of my mom and me. It is my favorite photo of her. I have no idea when or where it was taken, who took it (although I imagine it must have been my dad), or what we were laughing at…
I said smile, not laugh, he says, clearly peeved.
What are you laughing at anyway? Oh, not you,
I hastily assure him, wiping tears from my eyes.
Then what? he insists. I don’t know, just…
He looks so perplexed, I can’t help myself, and
soon her silvery laughter joins mine, as we give
ourselves over completely to mirth. He stares
at the two of us for a moment in bemused silence.
Women, he mutters, as he snaps the photo.
Read other Big Tent poetry responses here.