A Book of Days

In the ancient tomes

(of which few remain)

each new day

was rich with information,

arcane yet practical:

astronomy, religion, agriculture….

My own — when I was young —

held other people’s poems,

wise insights on love and art

(not affirmations, despite

what one cover said)

and space to add my own.

Patti’s a poet, but hers

has a photo a day (she’s

a photographer too)

and words as to why

the people represented

(not always by face) inspire her.

I didn’t set out

to make a book of my own

when I lit on the idea

of writing, for every day

this year, a micropoem —

but they could form a book.

I wonder if I want them to.

I’m creating, in essence,

a daily diary. It might not

have much to offer

other readers. It’s varied,

even whimsical, sometimes dull.

I’m really doing this

to make myself a holiday,

just a small one, every day;

to deflect an old, long grief

I’ve been stirring up

in other writing.

And it’s a way of deferring 

my attention, if briefly, 

from hard decisions

I need to make

and make soon, 

and all their complications.

Meanwhile I turn the pages

Patti has made —

one a day, which I’ll do

for a year. This too

is holiday, but not escape.

She makes one delve deeper.

On (two of) these book covers, my name is crossed out and written again, because I had a different surname when younger.

The micropoems are being shared on my Instagram and facebook profile pages and at my Stones for the River blog.

For Friday Writings #61 at Poets and Storytellers United, Magaly invites us to write something inspired by the first book we read, are reading, or will read this year. As you may have gathered, mine was and is Patti Smith's A Book of Days.