And the day came when the risk it took to remain tightly closed in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to bloom. Anais Nin



I did it - after two years of excuses - I made the commitment to write a poem a day in the month of August - a poem just postcard size, and sent to others who've made the same commitment. It's a challenge, the instructions say to write an original poem, write it on the postcard and mail it to the next person on my list. It forces me to stop editing, stop fussing and get it done! I've yet to receive any - but have great expectations that there will be one in today's mail.

Here are the first few I wrote and their destinations:

sent to Walkerton, IN and based on the postcard picture

posts of sunflowers
command notice
angle hours and minutes
for commuters
at Akard Street Station

northwest of Dallas
tall stalks lean
into sprinklers
neglect time in favor
of afternoon naps

sent to East Providence, RI and based on the postcard picture

~ the path ~

there is order in imperfection
cracked rocks aligned by hand
wood mossed by time
and persistent drizzle

moments before
I wept at the opportunity
to do nothing but breathe

sent to Hoboken, NJ and based on the postcard picture

August arrives
her room is ready
shriveled petunias
dried raspberries
brown thatch
and me, mercury 105°

the local news suggests we
fry eggs on asphalt
instead, I imagine
Yuki Zuri in January
and more ice
in my glass

sent to Vancouver, WA and based on the poem on the front of postcard


behind the shed
night’s crescent cousin deems
her waning fire a
an invitation to inflate points

gray triangle becomes
ginger circle
alters the margins of the sliver
to mingle day and night

sent to Far Rockaway, NY

clay pots gasp
their contents already dead
wait til grief sinks in

feel a drop carried by wind
from a sprinkler, out of reach
longs for the inevitable crack
of winter

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