a day in the life of a poet... or, a life in the day of a poet
View from the Top
I climbed my first tree before I was five. Got stuck. Screamed. Daddy had to walk two miles home from work in the middle of a hot West Virginia afternoon and rescue me. Like a cat, I finally learned not to climb down head-first. For the next XX years (I'd say how many, but no one would believe it) I spent time in the tops of trees, where I learned some of life's most important skills -- and pleasures. I'd say what they were (and are) but that would be telling. And you know what they say -- writers should show, not tell. So kick off your shoes and shimmy on up. Join me here surrounded by blue sky and little green leaves. Bring a book if you like, or a notebook. The apples up here are crisp and ripe and free for the picking.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
THANKS TO EVERYONE, AND ESPECIALLY . . .
As a new blogger, I much appreciate everyone who has taken the time to visit my world. My special gratitude goes to Linda Goin, who is helping me get started on this wonderful project.
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