
I’m appreciating a few days of recovery. Septum repaired (with some intentional re-breaking to help with a 40 years-ago-break). It’s a pretty good sized headache. And mouth-breathing (the stints come out on Monday). And gauze and tape changed regularly. I’m glad for good docs. Loving care (thx Dana). And some space for poetic reflection.
The intention, long haul, is breathing.
So I wrote.
Short On Words
It is poetry that quiets me.
A sentence or two.
Especially the ones about dogs,
or weeds,
or peppers,
or doing the dishes.
You know, regular things of life
that live long on experience
but so often, short on words.
It is poetry that so often quiets me,
and heals me, and brings me breath..





