It’s snowing outside, and I’m marooned here with my mother and brother for another day. Mom is sleeping, exhausted just by getting up to eat. My sciatica is acting up and I have a pimple blooming on my chin. (That’s such a perfect metaphor for who I am!)
Several weeks ago, I waded through my stacks of poems and picked out a bunch of short ones to blog once a week. Of course, they are waiting for me in my new home, but I won’t be back there until tomorrow.
But today seems like a good day for a poem, especially after reading my daughter’s poignant post of yesterday.
So, instead of one of my poems, here’s one of Jim Culleny‘s — because it seems like a good day for this particular poem.
Well, mom’s up. So much for engaging with the world of the internet.