So completely have I been selfishly focused on the celebration of my birthday this month, one would think April was invented just for me. Not only did “National Weed Day” pass me by without so much as a whiff, it’s almost the end of the month and I’m just now learning that April is “National Poetry Month.”
Who makes this stuff up?
I’m particularly embarrassed about my ignorance of the celebration of poetry, especially since I’m currently enrolled in an online poetry class. You’d think someone would have given me a heads up.
While I can’t offer you any plant matter to toke upon, I do have a tiny poem to share. Well, actually, it’s just a snippet that aspires to be a poem. This is in response to the Studio 30+ prompt “arcane or mysterious.” I call it “No Name Poem,” partly because such a title is mysterious, and partly because I have no name for it.
The tapping of a cane
Against worn wooden planks
Echoing off walls filled with faces
Forever to remain unknown
Yeah, I know. Some righteous weed would have been better.
Happy Poetry Month.