I am reblogging this post by a friend of mine…
It’s a brilliant piece of writing in its simplicity and lack of pretension. I love when a really good writer just types her heart and doesn’t try to “write”…in my own writing I have found that some of my best poems are the ones that just scamper out while “I” am not looking.
Be sure to read the Thomas Hardy poem at the end.
It’s enough to make you cry for a year.
A thunderstorm passed through a few moments ago. My son fell asleep on the couch next to me, but not before he opened the window that sits level with my desk. The study is filled with the lyrical sound of the last staccato raindrops pinging the gutters. Turns out that Dane loves thunderstorms, too and I treasure this commonality.
The storm is working her magic on me. Coupled with candles, Macy at my feet, and a diet cherry limeade, it’s all I need to get into the mood to write. Not that I have to be in any certain mood to write.
I know, it’s been like crickets in the halls of MamaMick. There are cobwebs in the corners, dust bunnies under the bed, and dried pizza crusts gathering ants in the discarded box. I’ve popped in long enough to say hello and then disappeared again–like Cheshire Cat.
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