Saturday I took my kids to a hotel that had an indoor pool because we had wanted to go to the beach but it was grey and rainy. We had a nice little staycation and decided to fancy up our hotel room with a vase of fresh pink tulips. Such small things can make such a big difference, you know? I buy myself fresh flowers every month because they make me happy and I try to find unique ones so I can tell my kids about hybridization and cultivars. Because I’m a nerd, yo.

Anyway, my bestie and her son came to swim with us and then we dyed Easter eggs and watched the hockey game. A fun night was had by all. Before the hockey game, I asked my friend to read one of my poems and a few bits and pieces I have been working on.

She mentioned how poetry is so different from prose, because poetry can be continued, even after you think a poem is done, whereas a story or book has a beginning, middle, and end. It’s true. I’ve written snippets here and there and eventually brought two together and made a whole new poem from them, weaving them together and adding more. But then , the two snippets can still become something else independently. I love the way poetry lives to evolve. Most of mine does, anyway.

I have this little snippet, that was in part inspired by the same myth as ‘Foundling‘, Orpheus and Eurydice, but also inspired by other random things.

I’m not sure where it is going, or actually, where it came from exactly. It feels like the end of a poem, rather than a beginning, but I’m just not sure yet. Maybe it will exist like this for a while, or forever.

Today is World Book Day, and Shakespeare’s assumed birth and death day. The book I am most currently reading is Wolfpack by Abby Wambach. She is such a bad ass. I’m hoping both my kids will enjoy reading Wolfpack as much as I have. We are already our own little Wolfpack and from them, I have been steadily learning how and when to lead and when to let them be leaders.

Today I had to pick up my son from school for a doctors appointment and on the way, we were talking about his classes and what they were studying. We were talking about dreams and imagination and he was saying how he imagines his teachers and classmates as different animals (something I do as well) and how he couldn’t identify what animals some people were like but, he said, “I know more than anything I am a wolf, Mommy.”

My little wolf. He has always loved wolves and the symbology of a pack and the lone wolf. But today, he surprised me when he said, “you know, wolves are really not supposed to be “lone wolves.” That means that something is wrong with them, like they are sick or weak, or something bad happened to their pack. Then that happens, like they lose their pack, they will get adopted by a new pack. Did you know that?”

I did not know they got adopted, but it makes sense. Dogs will rescue another dogs puppies and dogs will form packs when they meet as adults. So, wolves are similar. Makes sense. Why are people not that easy? We need each other, even when we say we can go it alone. We are also pack animals.

He still struggles to find his pack at school but, I am continually amazed by his self assuredness. He knows who he is and what he likes. And, as he tells me, his tribe is out there, they just haven’t found him yet. They will be so lucky when they do.

I’ve rambled on again. Sorry, but I haven’t quite found my mental footing yet. I have been writing too many poem fragments and not enough of my book this week. But, truthfully, I needed to store up my serotonin. CIPT is a bit diminishing in that way.

If you’ve read this far, bless you.

Love life,