I smooth a space for rest, I pour a tonic for my head. Carnations droop as if in sympathy in the glass. My dreams are nothing but a blank. Or they are about wars in other nations. I smooth a space for rest, I pour myself into position for prayer. I crave only water as libation. Flowers droop as if in sympathy in the glass. After the solstice, the dark lifts imperceptibly, by degrees. Birds return. I smooth a tentative space for rest, pour myself again into some work. I wake a little later in the day; at night sometimes I droop too quickly in the glass. Who knows when we will have any ease again? I smooth a space for rest. Flowers droop as if in sympathy in the glass.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
I’m so glad to read your villanelles. They’re my favorite form.
Peter, I get reminded every now and then to play with forms I like. The villanelle is also one of them!
Thank you for you poems here . . .
Although I do not know you personally, I feel almost as if I do, because you share yourself so generously with your poems here, your musings and updates on Twitter, and your family photos on Instagram.
I think I sent you an ebook of my Vermont haiku once, so you may remember me.
Your ability to love so much, write so much, cook so much and do so much leaves me in awe, and I am also obscurely comforted that sometimes you need to rest as well.
In peace,
Kris
@krislindbeck
Kris,
I do remember you and the e-copy of your haiku! Thank you for these kind words. My daughters are always reminding me to take better care of myself. Hope you are well…
Luisa