As you know, if you have been following this blog, I am working on writing 30 poems in 30 days for National Poetry Month. It has been a challenge to keep up the pace, and I may need to start writing shorter poems! In any event, here is my poem from prompt # 8.
Remember, these are babies, just learning to walk. Who knows what they might become when they grow up!
After Reading the Daily News
Because only 59% of the Moon’s surface is visible from earth,
I am reminded how little you know of me.
The broom in my hand is not about clean.
Sofa pillows plumped—not about neat.
The toaster crumbs wiped—bigger, than a shiny counter.
The carpet vacuumed—a path to somewhere else.
And if you ever ask why a clean house is so important to me,
I will tell you this:
While I watch the world spin off its axis—for one miniscule moment,
I find sanctuary in the Zen of tidy,
that it is the only thing these days, I manage to keep well-tended,
unlike my perfect English garden
now thick with weeds.
Yours in poetry,