the week has been full of excitement for me as I dip my toe into the bubbling water of an online art journaling class which I realized was "just what the doctor ordered". I'm hoping it will up the ante on my creative explorations.
A week ago, probably because of all the derelict buildings we've been seeing, and because there is a windswept hayfield behind our house, I wrote this:
ode to a broken house
a hand-sewn quilt of eyelet cloud,
like ragged sail full-blown and proud,
banked against the valley's edge
over meadows, brook and sedge,
whorled and wrested from their nap
plum-shadowed and then sunlit-dap,
shored against the wind-drenched day
was like to blow this house away.
no plume of smoke to scape and curl
from the chimney, flag unfurled,
no geese a-gabblin' in the yard
where old Sweep kept 'is one-eyed guard,
no hearth by cracklin' applewood
where barley stew a-bubblin' brewed.
just a lonely, hollow rubble
on the basin's edge, a hovel,
a pebble in a field of grasses
shoulder to the pelting lashes,
caressed too rare by gentle breeze
or the kiss of falling leaves
and no one to remember when
the roof was thatched, the door was latched
the babes were wrapped in buntings matched
or when the twinkling midnight snow
embraced the valley cabin so
that all inside who slumbered there
dreamt dreams of green with conscience bare.
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an old figurine from my collection
surely this planet is big enough, and we are expansive enough
to have a safe and happy home, a sanctuary for each of us
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