Here we are in another week of this year, and poetry goes on. I started working early in the morning, when it was windy and wild outside:

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By the end of the day the rain had moved on but the wind remained. My writing was done in segments between an appointment in the morning and basement painting in the afternoon.

I’ll make a quick detour and show you the basement project’s progress. We have replaced the entire ceiling and I have done one coat of the new paint color and today starting on the second and final coat.

Here we are on 11/17/20:

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And on 11/19/20, which, by the way, was my birthday…

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And on 11/20/20…

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Here we are at 11/22/20. We are especially proud of the fitting job we did getting these ceiling tiles to work with the ductwork and its habit of protruding out little…protrusions. Just saying.

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And after today’s work, 11/23/20. Take it from me, there are two coats of new paint on the walls now.

Pretty exciting, huh? But you are asking, what does it have to do with poetry? And I say, Nothing! But since I am here at home these days and can’t show you photos of libraries or parks or cafes, well…this is what I have to offer.

Now, to poetry. I continued something I was doing last week, takling five or seven syllable phrases or sentences that I had made up over the past days, and using them as a line of a haiku or tanka. Let’s see what we’ve got here.

The phrase was “the engine cramped up”. And this haiku exactly describes what happened to our white minivan when it stopped running. Yes, just that sudden, it was.

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the engine cramped up
the transmission seized and gasped
the minivan died

This tanka started off as “part scandal part joke”. And the rest came from me thinking about how I need to get to the ironing pretty soon.

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part scandal part joke
our double act goes back years
this old iron and me
and what we’ve done together
to shirts skirts and boxer shorts

Well, this tanka describes something that has happened to me over the years, and with more than one cat. The phrase was “an untidy game”.

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an untidy game
the cat unrolls the red yarn
wraps up the chair legs
I knit straight from the tangle
Knots and cat hairs all of it

I read so many crime novels. This tanka started off from “a husband quibbles”.

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A husband quibbles.
I stand at the kitchen sink.
The steak knife lounges
in a soothing bubble bath.
I hate to disturb it, but…

I know we’re going very long here on this post, but this shadorma commemorates the basement project and I had to include it. A new start needs to be celebrated and how better than with a bit of something written down?

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The new paint
resets memories
of mice nests
in ceilings
broken pipe floods and warped floors.
I breathe in the scent.

For your patience, a couple of photos from early morning walks in the last week. The sunrise is always a moment of hope. I send some of mine to you.

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