The spring prompt
I hate spring. I’m not telling you something don’t already know. I don’t like this ambiguous time. And I can’t recall one spring day that stands out more than any other. So, I wrote this poem instead.
It probably goes against the rules of poetry, indeed writing even, to explain your work in advance. But, I didn’t follow the exercise to the letter, and my sense of order leads me to over-explain.
In Between
Before the crickets
sun’s blaze
lazy humidity
electric air of thunderstorms
boat gas smell
the face turned to the sky
After the pale sun
static air
blackwhitegray
silence of birds gone
slush and mud and salt
cloudless sky
the shoulders hunched against the hawk
You grow in between.
Each week my spouse and I write short essays to share with each other — under 300 words, submitted within 24 hours, and written off of a prompt. This is the second one.
