Lesson From A Weed
Entombed by four-inch asphalt,
frozen for months,
how can this weed know
it’s spring? That light is up this way
when not a pinpoint guides it?
How does it see that it must
conquer this blackness
and reach for life?
How can its leaves, salad-soft,
struggle so fiercely for their freedom?
Paper-thin, yet they pierce
like relentless tiny jackhammers
until their tips burst through
to claim their place in the sun.
Yet we humans, beset by foes
and woes, will so agreeably
TODAY AT OUR HOUSE:
We’ve been enjoying beautiful sunshine and mild temps today. Bob did some mowing, now he’s installing our window air-conditioner for the hot days ahead. And I’ve begun working on the final revision of my book, Silver Morning Song.
About five years ago I started compiling this book of short stories and poems, including the poem above. My son-in-law, bless his dear heart, designed a lovely cover for it. Then leukemia came along and threw me into a completely different format. This spring I decided to revise the manuscript and include some new stories I’ve written since.
My book has been a back-burner thing since chemo treatment, while I was getting back onto my feet, then starting this new blog and doing some sewing for summer. But now it’s time to get Silver Morning Song propelled into circulation via that famous launching pad, CreateSpace.
Rik Hall of WildSeasFormatting.com has agreed to put my manuscript into e-book format and has the time right now, so I’d best get on it — and I’m quite excited at the prospect. Feels like this particular weed has finally broken through the pavement. 😉
Stay tuned for more details. And if you remember any stories or poems you’ve read here and think should be included in my book, please let me know in the comment box below.