Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Elisabeth at Unexpected Intersections for Roundup.
This week I've been settling into my Art History class. (Yes: Master Gardening class AND Art History class this fall! Lucky me!) My head might explode with all I'm learning—or more likely, it'll all spill out into new poems and stories. :)
Some fun/ny things, too: Dear Heidi alerted me to a Special Edition of D-39: A Robodog's Journey! Turns out there was a print run error early on that resulted in a handful of hybrid books that are part D-39, part Something Else.
I kind of love this, although I know it's frustrating as a reader...if this happens to you (with any book), simply let the bookseller know, who will let the publisher know, and they will send you a new copy. :)
Also, I'm working on a birthday party for my mom, who will be 75! It's turned into a Family Weekend Reunion at a rental house, which is great! And also overwhelming (as the daughter who lives closest to the venue and started the whole thing)...
Did you know? CYBILS is looking for judges! It may seem overwhelming, but as someone who served quite a few years and in several categories, I am here to tell you that the rewards of participating as a judge are tremendous! It helps sharpen your critical skills, and hearing other panelists' responses to books you've read is quite an education and meaningful experience. AND you get to see what publishers are currently saying YES to, and that can help inform your own writing projects. Apply here:
This week's ArtSpeak: FOUR SEASONS poem is a bit of a mystery. Where did it come from? What does it mean? I love when that happens! Thanks so much for reading... and if you'd like, please do share what the poem means to YOU. xo
The Harvester Shouts at Vincent
Don't you dare
cast this billowing
wheatfield as ocean.
Yes, yes, when the wind
rises, it may resemble
high tide. But make
there's no boat to carry you—
only these boots.
True, sun is a circling shark.
The blade leaves stubble
sharp enough to slice leather.
If I drown,
it will be no fault of water.
You need not remember me.