The NO-poetry Week!

Okay, if poetry doesn't interest anyone, how about the beach and all things peachy beachy?

How about the dazzling white sand against the emerald green water of the Gulf--all hazed out and mixed like an impressionistic painting by the summer heat? That's where I am. I'm almost frenzied with decisions: to write (my new collection of linked stories is in progress); to paint (Nicholas and I are taking a few lessons from self-taught artist, Jennifer Harwell and we brought art supplies); to read (I'm on a Hudson Strode kick--taught creative writing at the U of Alabama for years); or just to munch on parched peanuts bought raw at Buress's on the way down, sip on a Diet Coke, eat watermelon, take a nap...the possibilities of sheer joy are endless here!

Second Monday Poem

Ah, and good Monday to all! Today-- the other "love" poem Robbins liked and published:

Absolutes

Painting an acrylic sky
and adding a bit of black--
a must the teacher stressed--
shattered my bent to extremes
but not then.

Only the hottest coffee,
the quickest route;
right was right; wrong, wrong,
and I knew which was which.

Years after that sky had hardened,
I walked alone on the beach
at sunset in Savannah
and watched the edges
of creams, pinnks, and blues--
and, yes, I guess, black--
fading and seeping
into each other.
Even the sand piper
reflected this natural shading
from his stark white breast
to his wings tainted gray
and dipped in soot.

Without you
things are not certain
that always were
except skies; skies
should always be done
in water colors.