If you lack joy,

If you lack joy, find art...

yet another untitled poem in process

We were mad with desire,
wild with love.
Memory caresses me
on the cattail breeze
reminding me of who we were
back then.

We parked on the banks of the river,
hot summer nights, skin slick and hot
burning
consumed by youth, by need,
by the ceaseless rhythm
of the river.

We live now in the 'precious ordinary'
of our days,
our blood thinner,
the nights shorter,
the river a memory.

But the blood remembers:
a spark ignites in the dry rustle
of the cornfield.
Love burns in the hot night,
mad desire returns
like the days of summer.

If Not Now, When

Last year was replete with events, issues and conversations about my home town, Thomson.  I started a Facebook page (!), I wrote articles, I attended meetings and had a great time was had by all.

New year, new focus.  All About Me.  My priorities, my writing, my art, travel and my "stuff."  I am 68.  Sixty-eight.  At my age, I can see a limited future - not maudlin, not fatalistic, just recognizing the horizon.  Sixty-eight and running strong.  Gotta sharpen my focus, have more fun.  If not now, when?

I spent most of my life being someone's daughter, someone's wife, someone's mother.  Good times, nothing wasted.  But my priorities have been mainly other-directed.

I'm always going to be a mom and a daughter, but those roles don't define me, never did.  I've always been myself, known who I am.  I haven't been stifled, but...I rarely put myself first. 

We'll see how it goes.