I look forward to spending this winter working toward a chapbook, and I hope that when I publish, you will support it. It takes years to get poems clarified to the point of publishing, and even then I'll probably never feel satisfied with them. It is like they are living plants that you water, prune, and fertilize, but never truly own or understand.
After that thought, it is amusing to me that this is the poem fragment that I end with:
I heard minor alarm at my egress
with my chin lifted and eyes at half-mast.
I emerged, panting, above the sunlight
into a lavender forest
where widows and warriors walked hand-in-hand.
Pausing in my journey,
I listened as they gave fair warning
of coming prosperity and happiness.
Why a warning?, I asked.
A woman soft in folds of black answered,
The expense of effort is not currency.
The bounty beyond is by Grace alone.
© all rights reserved Julie Reeser
The Summoning of the Muse, Andrew Gonzalez