This weather has gotten me seasonally confused, in part because of all the rain and in part because our daffodils have clearly forgotten it’s January. I don’t mind winter and I love snow, so I’m sure I’ll go back to winter thoughts any day now but for now, my mind is on the rain.
One of my favorite rain poems is Sherman Alexie’s Summer of the Black Widows. I had my students read this poem when I taught creative writing and presented authors who wrote both poetry and short stories. (For an exercise, I had them take one of their short stories and turn it into a poem. Interesting exercise, if you’re looking for a writing prompt for today.)
The poem begins:
The spiders appeared suddenly
after that summer rainstorm.
Some people still insist the spiders fell with the rain
while others believe the spiders grew from the damp soil like weeds
with eight thin roots.
Read the rest of the poem here.
Rain makes me think of spring and spring makes me think of hardware, so here’s a poem I wrote about a hardware store here in Arlington.
Ayers
The man says, “I am convinced I can find the holy grail in here
if I look hard enough.”
But he is neither religious
nor an archeologist
and he finds instead
an egg timer
Molly bolts, copper pipes
a batique scarf that would never be mistaken
for a shroud
Plaster of Paris, mouse traps, baseball bats
suet
a mason jar that will store brandied peaches
too fermented to eat
at some anonymous supper.
He leaves with seeds
and a vow to dig.
And finally: a poem I love for all seasons is Ole Risom’s “I am a Bunny.” (Perhaps it’s a story, too, but I think of it as a poem. It begins:
I am a bunny.
My name is Nicholas.
I live in a hollow tree.
It’s been a Golden Book and a board book, but for me I’m not sure it can exist outside of my childhood copy of Richard Scarry’s Best Story Book Ever. Go grab yours to read the rest!
Poetry Friday this week is hosted by Liz in Ink, the blog run by Liz Scanlon, author of All the World, another book that is a poem itself.
