sunset

Spring Equinox Sunset — From our deck. For the next six months we see sunsets on the water.

While doing my daily Calm, Tamara Levitt talked about how poetry is healthy to heal wounds, relieve stress.

If you’re curious grab your writing instrument of choice and write as fast as you can for half a page, let the words fall from your fingers, let them plop on the page. Throw up, throw a tantrum, Ramble and jumble your way to the middle of the page. It’s ok to write a full page, and if you can’t stop, continue until you do.

Now go through what you wrote and find bits and pieces that you like. Highlight or under line them. Could be a word, could be a phrase. Gather them up, arrange them on the page. The poem that follows was done just that way, and it may not resonate with you, it may bore you to tears, it might tell you why you’ve always hated poetry, but for me, it’s a note from myself, a hint or a clue on what to do, where to look.

Tonight I have a date with my wife, to sit on the deck and watch the sun set. It’s the first time since the Autumnal Equinox that the sun sets on the ocean, just past Pedro Point. She’s headed north, where she’ll reach the end of her travels on summer solstice. She’ll pause to enjoy the long artic days before racing back for the Autumnal Equinox when she’ll set behind Pedro point for the next six months. My wife and I will hold hands, watch the sun set and bask in the glow of our 34th wedding anniversary.

It’s sunset. Hold my hand

relief from trimmings of panic,

shelves gone empty let the

train stop at your door

for a long cup of tea

get that fun back in your step

There there, there’s time

stage lit for progress

believe the words

tell our story, would you like to guess

sun sets on the ocean tonight

so we’re talking angels,