Poetry Season

Cold has landed on my fingertips

My heart is full of sorrows and secrets

I’m checking my astrology calendar

it must be poetry season 

too often in my short little life I’ve questioned what my one thing was 

my minutes and hours that lead to triumph in my one little thing

I’m climbing now

that big rock which has felt the trepidations 

of the past summer now in the distance and I’m listening to the acoustic guitar singing today is the greatest I cried so many times but my fear now is that poetry season is upon us & I’m open in ways men find intimidating but silently admire.

11.2.25