Winter is upon us. As someone who is occasionally felled by S.A.D., what to do, what to do...
Drive to Vancouver.
Take ferry over to Bowen Island.
Set up room (Perogy Cat loves to watch me agonize over an elusive poem).
Meet with dear poetfriends and get to prepping some of the amazing food we ate, under the artful tutelage of the lovely and talented, (both as poet and cook) Somae.
A room awaits the arrival of the poets.
Allow time for laughter.
And coffee.
What an incredible privilege to get to hang out and talk and listen and write with all of you (two missing from photo; you know who you are and we love you, too! Damn ferry schedules).
Thank you.
Here's that elusive one.
JUST PRETEND YOU’RE DEAD AND MAKE A DECISION
find a home for the Belleek vase with the roses
box the books you’ll never read again
put water on to boil and forget it
sort the sheet music into piles
violin/piano/vocals
sort those into difficult and easy
and disperse accordingly
forget to flush the toilet
keep your wedding picture
and the lock of someone’s hair
thow away the bag meant for Goodwill
read old letters
imagine how you’d answer them now
prepare a pyre for the ceremony
while the toast is burning
clean the silver one last time
give away the piano
spend an hour searching for the remote
it’s in your pocket
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2 comments:
its all sounds pretty familiar these days! love it.
the pics were great - i don't get out to Bowen Island much and I LIVE in Vancouver. sheesh!
Thanks, D. It was a marvelous time-out-of-time. (I never went to Bowen when I lived in Vancouver either).
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