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Tis the Season

 It's the season when every morning feels like a prelude to rain but not all of them end up there. Time to bring in the shamrocks from the back porch and check our hurricane preparedness list. Hope, then pray, that there are no hurricanes this year anywhere along the Gulf Coast. Order more tuna fish. 

After the previous year, however, I feel that all my planning and prep circuits are blown. Which leads through twisty paths of consideration to how I'm going to move forward with the poetry book I've been working on (and just got the cover art for!!!). So, so happy with the cover, which really captures the book itself, which experienced a swerve from a general compilation of poems written to prompt at our local writers' group and poetry blog to a collection of 2020 poems written as the group moved online and the rhythm of weeks disintegrated into the transition period between one normal and the next. 

I'm not so good with the between-times. Now, as we get our shots and start thinking about where to go when we can go (to a bookstore, for example), I find myself in a state of constant hypervigilance and panic. I've given up coffee and tea for the time being and am thinking about yoga. There have been times when I startled at my watch buzzing for some random weather notification. 

Needless to say, writing isn't really happening right now (nor is reading, which truly sucks); however, I am thinking about what I want the book to be. I don't want it to push someone backward. I don't want it to push me backward. 

This isn't really where I thought today's post would go...so here are shamrocks just before the rain:



 

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