30 Days of Delight
To my companions at Project 366
I bring my coffee
and come to the feast,
where I linger.
I meet beauty – my reason
for this whole lifelong
engagement with poetry,
and passion for visual art.
I find quirkiness, laughter,
and deeper feelings –
Oh, I like
poems to get my teeth into,
to devour in gulps, or to savour;
tasty, piquant images,
and others that slake thirst.
So I’m sorry to leave you, and
like Penelope (who just said goodbye)
after 30 days of making poems,
I notice I’m tired. It’s surprising.
‘Writing begets writing’
I said at the outset.
And so it has been. A pouring.
More than one a day.
A delight. A fervour.
(Not taking anything out
of my life – oh, except housework
and exercise. Adding this in.)
I realise now, it must have taken
invisible reserves of energy.
Would persistence have increased
fatigue or stamina? I won’t know.
‘It is never any use
dwelling on goodbyes,’
a wise person, whose name
I’m too lazy to look up now, said.
‘It is not the being together
it prolongs. It is the parting.’ Yes.
The time has come to say goodbye.
And so, my sweets, let us part.
I’ll never grow too old to dream;
still your art will live in my heart.
(Now that I’ve got you all weepy –
don’t panic, I’ll be lurking and reading.)