Sunday, July 9, 2017

Outside on the prom, a mockingbird is singing and singing. A low mist hangs over the dew-sodden grass. I am thinking about backyard compost contraptions and teeny-tiny gardens and the singing in the local A.M.E. church. I am thinking about how to get the smell of five cats out of a house. I am thinking about Baldwin's Giovanni's Room and imagining what it would be like to teach a 10-week class on the essay and wondering why the Red Sox never give Rick Porcello any run support. I am thinking that I should buy another brand of coffee. I am remembering the king salmon and mashed potatoes we had for dinner last night and the late-afternoon flash flood swirling into the storm drain in front of the apartment house. I am missing my friends at the Frost Place and those sweet writing-seminar teenagers in their sopping-wet kayaks and my own dear boys forging through the city and the wild. I am sending comical-sentimental salutations to the man asleep in my bed. I am thinking about band practice and fresh tomatoes and the sunburn on my left shoulder. I am wondering if my deck-garden pansies will keep blooming until the nasturtiums are big enough to take over. I am thinking about three new poem drafts and the book I need to finish editing and the blurb I need to write for a friend's poetry collection and the thoughtful comments I need to make on another friend's draft and the reflection paper I need to read for a Frost Place grad student and the mortgage talk I need to have at the bank tomorrow and the fact that I may never get back to the three drafts that started this sentence. I am thinking about sunshine and rain and fresh strawberries and the giant ugly bug I found in the bathtub. I am thinking about you, wondering if you've made it to the end of this litany and, if so, where you would recommend edits.


Carlene said...

I'd focus on the strawberries.


David (n of 49) said...

Rule No. 1: Never edit a strawberry.