It’s time for a moratorium
On worries and procrastination,
On moorings and parking meters
And slipped opportunities.
It’s time for a rucksack manifesto.
A few lines from one of my current favorites. It’s still a rough, rough draft. I’ve been dancing with it for longer than almost anything else in this project. I’ve given up repeatedly, abandoned it, tried to forget about it. But it keeps wooing me back. With luck I’ll master the dance steps (or at least stop crushing her toes) so that I can share a complete poem. Soon. I hope… Force. Of. Will.