And so school begins. Emma is in high school now, my only kid playing soccer this fall. We’re getting Annie outfitted to leave for WWU on Sept. 19th. I am writing every morning.
Meanwhile, I have 302 postcard addresses, only 31 of which I have sent postcards to. So even though August was postcard poetry month, I’m thinking I will keep the postcards going a while longer. Here’s a recent poem:
Sitting in my car, watching my daughter’s soccer practice,
I eat a plum. When I was a child,
we had three varieties of plum in our orchard–
purple, a reddish orange one, and a yellow, the sweetest.
One fall evening we came home from church,
all of us crammed into the Buick station wagon,
and our headlights caught the eyes of a family of raccoons
perched in the plum tree. Of course the yellow plum,
that sweet tree. The girls run across the soccer field.
Sun slants from the horizon, its rays catching
in my daughter’s curls.