A bright, sun-spackled day reminds me that this past summer
make worthy memories
has passed only recently. Leaves are turning & falling everywhere.
It’s very dry here, but even more parched & fiery on the east side
apologize when needed
of the mountains. To a man who has dropped a lit cigarette in dry
don’t look away
grass I yell, “Hey — your cigarette is still lit,” & make a show
pick & fight battles
of stomping it out. Looking back at me through hooded eyes,
live so you want to remember
he says “Thank you.” From the top of the bluff visibility is clear;
Canadian mountains in the distance seem much closer under
tie string to a finger
crystalline sky. It’s quiet for a change, & I finally remember
work at it
that today is a holiday, though one not celebrated by all.
work at it, as if life depends on it
The over-water walkway arcs out over lazily undulating
remembering allows accounting
ocean swells. Three sea otters fish and play at the same time,
slipping liquidly from surface & back, over and over again.
Today I’m thinking about Mark Twain looking out over this
write short stories
very bay over a hundred years ago. At one point earlier
in his life he said, “I’m writing the book I want to write.”
don’t go through the motions
At the end of his labors he had Huckleberry Finn. Write your
write love poems
masterpiece, the book of your life. Write it for you, and allow
say “I love you”
other, chosen characters in — carefully. Light the world on fire
say “I love you” to those you love
with your words, your stories, your poems. There’s still time.
Andrew Shattuck McBride
October 8, 2012
PaPoWriMo ~ 2012 *Day Twelve Poem*
I humbly dedicate this to all of my poet/writer friends.
[This is a poem from earlier this month. I’ve retooled and revised it for the blog today, October 15, 2012. Ah, and today, October 16th!]