Life has been insistently busy the last few months and I all but abandoned my writing. This morning I pulled out my poetry notebook to jot down a couple of lines that came to me as I drove to the laundrymat, and I found this poem. Appropriately it’s Wednesday. So I thought I would share it. Never mind Mondays, can you tell I don’t like Wednesdays??
It’s Wednesday,
my week’s nemesis,
work’s dullest day.
It stretches like a desert
of time, the afternoon
especially dry and arid.
How to prepare for the journey?
What to bring,
not too heavy that
drags me to the ground
in the moisture-sucking air,
but keeps my parched brain
from cracking and splitting,
and able to savor
the respite when it is over?
copyright Susan Desrocher 2015