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My poem is called "Winter Starlings," which reminds me that fall is coming, and then, yes, winter, too. Snow.
The harvest has begun. We saw combines out in the fields yesterday, a sunny blue sky day, and even a finished field.
"Sweet" reminds me of Shakespeare, too: Sweets to the sweet...
12 comments:
Stunning poem, Kathleen!
Thanks so much, Hannah. And the gold-stippled starlings will appear all too soon...and the sweet, sweet juncos.
I agree with Hannah, Kathleen. Gorgeous poem. Congratulations on its publication (so much for that rejection journal you're keeping).
Thanks so much, Maureen!
Strictly speaking, this doesn't count! That is, I'm keeping track, starting Sept. 1, 2001, to see if I get 100 rejections by August 31, 2012. There's still plenty of time for that!
According to my records, this one was sent to Sweet on January 24, 2011! Accepted April 17, and published September 8. I'm glad they are on top of it, and glad I'm (mostly) on top of it, because I think it helps everybody in this labor of love!
Um, Sept 1, 2011.
That would be an example of a proofreading thing that got by me. And an example of being only mostly on top of it. Not entirely on top of it.
Also, I keep writing 2001 instead of 2011, which will be very confusing for my literary biographers.
HA ha ha ha ha ha!! Wooee, I tickled myself with that one.
And when my literary biographers tally up the stats on my blog, maybe I will be the most frequent commenter!
Lovely, lovely poem, Kathleen!
Thank you, Sandy!
Congrats, Kathleen! Sweet is a terrific journal and your poem is delicious! That last line!
it's no wonder you write stellar poetry, take a look at this sweet line in your blog:
" . . . reminds you of mercy and Shakespeare."
love this poem!
sherry
Thank you, Carol! Thank you, Sherry!
I am so moved that so many readers are liking this poem so much. I love it, too, from the moment of seeing those birds outside my window...on! There some things that simply arrest me in life, and I cannot move. I stand in awe until I can even twitch or breathe again....
I guess part of writing the poem is to try to figure out why. Then the act of writing the poem takes over, and keeps going on its own.
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