A Tablespoon of Summer

L.L. here, with a Random Acts of Poetry prompt. Sometimes I forget that random acts of poetry are everywhere. They're in my keyboard, my daily work, my daily play. It doesn't take much. A smidgen of experience. A tablespoon of vision about any common thing.

Like last week, I was sitting in the sun while my kids played in the pool. It is a pool by our river. Nothing fancy. I just like it because it doesn't get too busy, and something about the air reminds me of the ocean. Sitting there, I started looking at the Management's very sad attempt at a garden. It was hardly beautiful. That is when I suddenly decided to take whatever I could find in that sorry little flower bed and put it in a poem. Really, like I said, it doesn't take much. Poems will accept the smallest of things.

This week, find a tablespoon of summer. Nothing big. A sound, a sight, something unimpressive. Give it to a poem, and let the poem give it life.

Here, by the way, is the poem about the un-garden...

Distanced Don't worry about the red star flowers aging to garnet, or the marigolds blooming yellow, so, so, yellow, or the pink star flowers either, which are wilting and eaten by beetles. Don't worry about the wood chips chocolate-colored dry in the sun, while a breeze is blowing in off the river, licking chlorinated water from flat concrete, drifting it to you, from me.

Lavender in a Spoon photo by Elizabeth O. Weller. Used with permission. Post by L.L. Barkat.