Women Who Write

Unseasonal slice of spring
splashes light across my desk,
interrupts my morning write,
lures fingers from the keyboard.

I set aside my daily task
and reach for other keys.

Morning sun steamrolls
across damp fields,
trailing vapor
that dissipates in thin air.

I shake winter from my wings
to skitter up and around
and up some more,
listening along the way
to hikers chatter like chickadees
celebrating a fresh-filled feeder.

At the crest, above distant valley floor
and so close to sky, I wish that I
could fly, could soar,
could be both large and small.

My slow descent savoring
January sweetness gains
blessing of a stranger’s car,
newly parked beside my own,
door open.

Our greeting extends
into connection – however brief –
between two women who write.

I tuck the moment in my heart.

January 22, 2016