Awake! the glabrous moon has stretched her shift.
The sun this morning, a bonfire’s extravagant
orange-rust mesa.
The tree beside our porch bears
mayapple fruit, swing-spirit tickling.
Ghost cicada perches, wrapped in the whelm of morning wind.
It’s a hackberry tree I see.
Sometimes I travel in the wilds of my mind.
In January, the epiphany star said “Find.”
I’ve found it hard.
I pin a stonefly to my lapel—
I need stronger verbs to plunk.
I am resting the writing self
beneath fabrics and flowers in a breezy room,
glass trinkets on fold out tables.
Maybe the best days are water days.
Bless uncountable poets.
Thanks to faithful fickle June.
“If you wrote a poem a day, it would take,”
I tell my students,

This poem was written using first lines from a whole bunch of the poems written today. I plan to gather other first lines and write a few more. I am sorry I have not been more productive or attentive this month, and I am really looking forward to settling into everyone’s work to make the anthology. I have loved seeing all your/our poems, and all the comments on each other’s work. ” The French bid adieu” (to quote another first line) but I’ll just say, “I’ll see you in your words.” Pauletta