Yesterday Ella, from the writers' group Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, posed a series of questions as a challenge to members and contributors.Yesterday I was most unwell, so unwell I even had to cancel a trip to British Columbia to visit old friends.
I read Ella's questions but couldn't write more than a single line. I even forgot it was Leap Day, that very special day for toads!
Then, this morning, after a very funny bit in a book made me laugh, I felt a creative spark come to life despite the fog of pain and coughing. It ain't art, folks, but this is my response to Ella's questions (which are shown below). Please pardon the amateur rhymes and general lack of originality, often the effect of illness on creativity, but really no excuse.
my morning's white with hints of blue
and prairie sun is poking through,
creating shadows on the snow,
small birds—with farther north to go—
are resting, eating, tweeting here,
their sweet noise music to my ear.
deer left footprints ’neath my tree:
they came too late for me to see,
but prints leave records where they meet,
the now-fermented fruit to eat,
and though they stagger very slightly
I know they’ll return here nightly.
Here are the questions Ella posed yesterday, from which we could choose any or all to answer:
What color is your morning?
What are the shapes of your day?
What are the smells of your evening?
What are the textures of your favorite piece of clothing?
What are the sounds you hear right now?
What nourishes you?
What do you see when you open your eyes and really look?
