Spending some time cleaning my desk and found again a snippet of an e.e. cummings poem I had cut from a book, painted and framed. The word “Spring” caught my attention. And I was reminded of the way poetry helps me keep time. Like a calendar I come back each year to versions of my self – to new ways of reading the familiar.
I went to search for my yellow paged copy of 73 poems and saw this line from 35 that I love
(existing’s tricky: but to live’s a gift)
Creative prompt: Take stock – What’s in/on your desk? Is clutter the sign of a creative mind? When are you at your most creative – when things are in disaray or organized? What seeds of inspiration are hiding beneath the rubble of time and neglect? What can you unearth today that will grow into something new tomorrow?