2020 is a great year for poetry. (And for hindsight, too, apparently.)
How do I know? Because any year, any day, is a great time for poetry. And also, of course, because the Poetry Sisters have plans---plans to write all twelve months of this year, with the added twist of looking forward and looking back every so often as we create our poems.
January kicks it off, gently, with a haiku, on the theme of foresight, or the new year, or both.
I live on a tidal river, so I always feel aware of time, or at least, of the physical movement that accompanies time. So I know that every year turns into the next by the slow work of the tide. And that work can be seen---every day. So what then, is "new" about each new year? And what does it mean to see "forward" or to have "foresight" about that year?
I don't know the answer to those questions---or at least not enough to fill a haiku!
But I do admire the life that lives in and around the tides of the river. Perhaps foresight is being in the flow of the world, but not dragged under by it. Like oysters. Like egrets. Perhaps.
oyster shells steady
low tide mud; at high, egrets
guard the fey river.
My sisters greet the new year here:
Liz
Tanita
Kelly
Rebecca
Laura
Andi
Tricia
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Jone, at DeoWriter.
How do I know? Because any year, any day, is a great time for poetry. And also, of course, because the Poetry Sisters have plans---plans to write all twelve months of this year, with the added twist of looking forward and looking back every so often as we create our poems.
January kicks it off, gently, with a haiku, on the theme of foresight, or the new year, or both.
I live on a tidal river, so I always feel aware of time, or at least, of the physical movement that accompanies time. So I know that every year turns into the next by the slow work of the tide. And that work can be seen---every day. So what then, is "new" about each new year? And what does it mean to see "forward" or to have "foresight" about that year?
I don't know the answer to those questions---or at least not enough to fill a haiku!
But I do admire the life that lives in and around the tides of the river. Perhaps foresight is being in the flow of the world, but not dragged under by it. Like oysters. Like egrets. Perhaps.
oyster shells steady
low tide mud; at high, egrets
guard the fey river.
My sisters greet the new year here:
Liz
Tanita
Kelly
Rebecca
Laura
Andi
Tricia
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Jone, at DeoWriter.
