Early morning. Dew gathers on each bentwood chair, on round tabletops near the swept sidewalk. Insects are beginning to saw minute music.
Their tunes buzz in early urban air, not yet drowned by the metal whines of traffic. A striped awning over a glass door. Coffee offerings in chalk
lean on slates near the entrance, work their magic, entrance us in, as if by chance, and we talk after silence not so companionable. Not that we bare
our souls, nothing like that. Maybe we just wake up a little more to each other, to who and what we are, exhale our nocturnal worrying, refuse miasma and mild panic.
We perk up at the scents of cold milk and rich, dark brew. We’ll come back for lunch. Maybe the stew? For now, Salut!
Somewhere near bees are dreaming in hexagonal wax rooms, twitching as the scent of new pollen blows in— dreaming green, dreaming sweet, dreaming flight.
I am here in a honeyed pool of light, window open, a bewitching breeze luring outside in: robin call, fragrance replete— sweet grass, budding linden.
Leslie Schultz
Thank you for joining me this topsy-turvy April for new poems and photographs.
I hope you are safe and well, finding was to celebrate life as well as to protect it!
All through last night, despite a pleasant evening and dropping right off to sleep, I found myself tossing and turning, worried that I would not find any poems this April to share during the National Poetry Writing Month challenge.
Insistent Bliss
It latches on like an infant. I cannot help but cradle it, this desire, my best intent to discover insight or wit,
to write a line that sings the blues, the purples, greens, resplendent golds, and fire-spun red or pink-sparked hues that flash, ink-drawn, as night unfolds;
and, sometimes, even wisdom comes, surprises me, like shafts of light that break through scenic tumbled clouds and pierce my heart with wild delight;
this comes despite coronal flare of fear, to comfort and repair.
Leslie Schultz
This morning, I found I did find something that took me by surprise and that I wanted to share. Will that hold true each April morning? The truth is, I have no idea. Inspiration is mysterious. All I know for sure is that I plan to knock on its door each morning, not sure if it will open or, if it does, what will be on the other side. If there is nothing? Then I will share that.
Thank you for joining me in this uncertain but interesting journey through the days ahead! We’ll see what we get.
If you would like to read other poems composed in the moment this month, do check out the mother ship, the NaPoWriMo website, where there are links to the personal websites of hundreds of participating poets. If you’d like to try your hand at a poem, the NaPoWriMo site offers daily prompts. And if you are taking up the month-long challenge this year (and plan to publish your poems in real time), then consider registering your website with them.
The newest issue of Mezzo Cammin is up! I am so happy to have two sonnets included in this issue, which also includes exciting work by a number of formalist poets, including my friend, Sally Nacker. This issue’s feature poet, Jane Satterfield, contributes a group of seven poems astonishing in their range of subject, formal deftness, and emotional depth.
As a prelude to the pleasures of National Poetry Month, I can imagine nothing more enjoyable than dipping into this new offering by Mezzo Cammin.
