Anyone else having problems remembering that not only do they have to write stones, but they then have to type them, post them even? It’s not as if this is difficult! One thing good about my seeming lack of focus is that I am accomplishing something I hoped to: I am writing on the fly [you should hear my brain: Oy! Wait. I’m still processing. Where are you?], not something I find easy — unless a teacher is standing in front of me saying, ‘Write a poem following these three steps. You have nine minutes’. It worked a treat.
Yesterday’s and today’s:
As if I exist on two planes, I look down
to where early morning cars rush in and
out of my vision, marked by red tail lights
and the glancing reflection of street lamps.
Up here, on the seventh story, the trees
outside my window lift their bare, twiggy
branches and stand like sentinels waiting
for the sun. The road sounds recede.
All is still.
Turning my head I catch the moment
of arrival. A splash of salmon with a deep
rose centre colours the horizon
pinks into low-lying cloud streaks.