For a number of years I buried myself in various vices and as such have ignored those things that brought me satisfaction and even joy — essentially I let my bad habits slowly pack up those things I used to do and love and quietly stash them away in dark places where they were out-of-sight and out-of-mind. But….over the last year I have set aside a number of those vices and under layers of mental dust and psychic cobwebs I re-discovered some of those long forgotten talents and passions.
One of those things I have been working to unpack again is poetry — both reading and writing. The poem below is my first real poem in a number of years that is not about one my vices.
Curling up under a favorite quilt
or into slippers left on a radiator
sheets fresh from the dryer
or a winter coat against the wind
as if delivered into the waiting arms
of mother, father, guardian, protector.