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Where do spiders go when it rains?

I have heard of the one

who fell down the drain and

somehow climbed back up again

safe and sound

once the rain had dried out,

but I doubt

most would fare so well

in such a risky scenario,

and would likely drown.

.

All day, I have awaited

the rain, thinking again and again

of the spiders I have glimpsed

in the garden, and wondered

about their fate.

.

Do they tuck themselves

under branches and leaves

the way that we sometimes duck

under eaves to get relief

from a downpour?

.

Do they have their own version

of our indoors

outside, where they hide

until the wetness has finally subsided?

.

Do they simply settle

into their webs and hope

for the best, legs crossed

this storm isn't their last?

.

Or do they sneak

through the cracks of the closest

available shack, seeking shelter

in whatever home

they can find it?

.

I am holding my breath

the way the sky

holds off the drips,

hesitant to let any air slip

through my lips as the storm

slowly eases in.

.

And while I am wondering

and looking outside,

the small web in the window

catches my eye -- it is empty,

and I cannot tell if this news

bodes well for

the tiny spider who was there

just this morning.

.

At least I can surmise

that this ruminating of mine

implies a graduation from the hate

I used to claim against

all of their kind.

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I love this, A, and found myself longing for illustrations to go with each of your ideas for what spiders might do!

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Children's book idea!

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This poem feels like a great big invitation to slow down -- to notice the tiny worlds out there under our nose "all day," to wonder about them, to feel the coming rain. It's a meditative antidote to the rushed pace I've been operating in recently. Thank you, A!

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Thank you! That's such a lovely compliment. I feel like poetry in general is like that for me, and especially inside of this community.

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I so enjoyed taking this imaginal journey with you. I love the idea of spiders crossing their legs in the way we cross our fingers to hope or wish, and also the way you held your breath the way the sky held its drips. And of course I loved your brilliant rhymes ; )

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Thank you! 😊

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Lovely words for those little guys we tend to fear so much. Although the wooly black one that decided to join me on my hammock yesterday was not well received!

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Neither were the two very enormous (and possibly dangerous) ones we saw in the garden this week.

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I love the question of whether it is the earth or you aching with aliveness! Also love the image of you as a heart beating out the earth's chest. We are truly one, and this poem captures that essence so beautifully. My offering on the prompt:

*

All day long the trees receive with magnanimity

the burdens that fall to them under the gravity

of greed.

They suffer without complaint the weight of hate-

fully heavy demands we’ve reframed to name

as need. The incomprehensible, indefensible need

for more.

More now.

More, faster.

More, bigger,

More, cheaper.

Even though more is still somehow

not enough, never enough, no matter how much,

and the trees just keep taking up

our carbonaceous slack, getting absolutely nothing back

except

more of the same.

Where is our shame?

Alchemized like carbon into oxygen we breathe freely,

courtesy of undeserved arboreal magnanimity?

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I love this. It's like the sequel to the Lorax. On the one hand there's the greed and the need for more, more, more that's led to deforestation. And then there's this other greed for more, more, more that's pumped ever more carbon into the atmosphere with fewer trees to take it up.

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Oh, yes! It does have that vibe. And I love "our carbonaceous slack" and "undeserved arboreal magnanimity."

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Ooooph. Yes, the beast known as consumption is truly a hungry ghost. Thanks, friend :)) I hope Denver is great, and it feels better knowing your forest poetry gathering will likely give something beautiful back to the magnanimous Colorado trees <3

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More is somehow not enough, never enough…

So terribly true.

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Love the golden blooms and buzzing doors. The ache of aliveness ❤️‍🩹

My reflections from a lovely Saturday:

All day the sun shines.

Naps and dance parties, the hot grill

Means summer is here!

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Naps, dance parties, and grilling - you just managed to conjure a lot of happiness for me in just a few words! Lovely!

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All day

.

I lie in bed with you, reading books, hips touching, house silent.

.

I pet the new kitten, listen to her purr

watch her knead her claws back and forth.

Nobody calls my name to come help.

.

I live in the library, sounds of people checking out books

the squeak of a hidden door.

.

I sit in a meadow, grass and green weeds uncut, unmoving.

My knees are drawn up to my chest, held in place by my hands

holding each other. All day.

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What a treat this was to read! The lines “hips touching, house silent” and “nobody calls my name to come help” are a balm to every weary parent’s soul!

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Thank you, Lisa. It was funny that the prompt basically led to a vision of a day without parenting (as much as I love my crew). I’m kind of worn out right now.

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That makes so much sense to me! If you spent a few weeks without your kiddos, I'm guessing you'd be dreaming of a day with them, but when the day-in-day-out of your life is caregiving, it's so natural to dream of quiet! I'm wishing you inner libraries of calm and peace!

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Thank you, Lisa :). And thank you for another great writing exercise.

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This is so lovely, Margaret. What a beautiful way to spend a day. I tend to read things literally, so I have to ask - do you really live in a library? That sounds like a dream.

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Wow—thank you! This was definitely a vision of an ideal quiet day. Life has been more chaotic than usual lately. No, I don’t live in a library, but as one literal reader to another, I’m surprised I settled on that verb 😊. I was in the library when I was writing this prompt and it was such a wonderful break, lots of soft sounds but no real noise.

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I love that! Thank you for sharing!

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I love this prompt, Lisa. Well, I love all your prompts and your poems, but they are so distinctive that every one is a new adventure.

All Day

^

The long winding story

that bookends

a working life,

soon to come to an end.

‘What will you do all day?” friends ask.

I reply, “I don’t know…”

and I smile at the possibilities.

I imagine the joy of choices,

a delightful day with nothing

better to do

than

just be.

One more day with all day

as the recipe

For creating.

For listening.

For opening.

For wandering.

For wondering.

For loving.

All day.

Each day.

This day.

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This is so lovely! I love how the simple question “what will you do all day” acts like a door within this poem, inviting us all into a really spacious kind of imagining.

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Thank you Lisa!

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Larry, are you retiring soon? I love the idea of you getting to spend your days just being!

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Hi A.! My plan is to retire from full time work when my current interim stint ends here. I’m not exactly sure when that is, this summer or fall, but after 48 years of working, I’m ready! !

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I'm so glad for you!

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On the edge of a holiday weekend

Reading the great summer novel

Is like drinking an all day I.P.A.

Poetry, the writing, the reading is like a high proof distillate

Hitting hard and fast

All day I pace the barren waste

Without the taste of water

Cool water

Water

Sons of the Pioneers

Echo in my daddy’s ears

Beating back the years

And countless fears

Train by day

Joe Rogan Podcast by night

All day

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So many images in this poem! I love the idea of reading the great summer novel being like drinking an all day IPA.

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How I got to what you see here. I started with the all day prompt and couldn't get anywhere this weekend. Because I mostly finished it with "I'm tired." lol.

But then yesterday was, of course, Memorial Day, which is kind of my "soberversary." I say kind of because the date would actually be May 31 (Memorial Day 2021) but the holiday is what holds the significance in my mind.

Yesterday

Was Memorial Day

And all day

I was thinking of

Memorial Day 2021

It was the last day.

.

The last day

That I pre-gamed

Before going to

A family gathering

Guaranteeing that I’d be

Buzzed when I arrived.

.

The last day

I ignored the pleas

From my kids and him

Not to drink too much

Oh of course I won’t

I effortlessly lied.

.

The last day

I kept a mental log

Of the drinks I had

And shots in between

Before I lost count

And gave it up.

.

The last day

I thought I had a right

To wail and cry and curse

A public spectacle

So embarrassing

When I’d had too much.

.

The last day

I said words I would

Have never said

In sober standard time

To those I claimed to love

But yet I'd never take the blame.

.

The last day

That I would go to bed

And wake up constantly

Stomach sick

Pounding head

Full of regret and shame.

.

And that last day

Was the first time

That I really saw

That I might lose it all

For that sake of what

Was in that bottle or that glass.

.

So that was that.

.

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Karri, this is so powerful! You have me in tears. Thank you for sharing so beautifully and completely. And your ending - so simple and matter of fact - packs such a punch. “So that was that.” Congratulations on three years, friend!

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Oh boy, this made me cry. What a powerful, raw poem. Happy three years, Karri. You are a rock star.

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Wow. That’s some vulnerable and powerful writing. I’m glad you’re moving forward in a positive way Karri.

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Three years is amazing, Karri. The ending of your poem really seals it - "so that was that."

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Lisa! This is so gorgeous, wow. This line resonates with me deeply: “The earth aches aliveness—or is that me?” And the last stanza. Thank you for sharing. ❤️

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Thank you so much, Claire! It was so helpful to get and incorporate feedback via CWC. The original version was much more sprawling!

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These lines are so delicious:

"Butterweed builds golden walls,

I bend through buzzing doors."

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Well, winding your way through flowers and bees is indeed delicious! Thank you, Margaret.

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All day dollars flutter

out of strokes on a keyboard,

through windows open

and closed.

Some of them are marked for me.

They will feed me and

contain my life.

.

All day entropy

is also on the job.

She drifts through high places,

pulling old snow into itself,

filling every gully,

waking every lily,

asking me out.

.

When I fail to show,

she shuffles into my yard

where I can see her,

and sets about raising weeds

and driveway ruts.

She smirks at me

through the glass that

holds me fast.

.

When that still doesn’t work,

she pads up behind me,

leans over the back of my

chair designed for all-day comfort

and carves lines on my face

as I continue

getting by.

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Ooh, this is so good. I can't get over the sort of cheeky and impertinent personality of entropy, and how she smirks, and carves lines on your face.

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This one really spoke to me. Such incredible awareness in this.

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So glad you were able to go on that run - and thank you for taking us along. I tend to think "oh I can't write about "x, y, or z" again because I have already written about it. But of course we can!

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Thanks, Karri! I’ve tended to do that, too, but I’m learning that sometimes the biggest magic happens on the second or third or hundredth go.

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"The earth aches aliveness -- or is that me?" Yes! And the last stanza - I just love the imagery.

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I’m grinning like a total dweeb from all these lovely comments! Thank you, A!

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Yet another experience we share! I'm always beaming when I read the comments here.

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😃😃🤪

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I love this poem so much! Especially the last stanza. Am memorizing it now to keep it with me.

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That feels like the highest honor! Thank you.

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Love this poem and your reading of it!!! <3

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Thank you so much, DT!

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Lisa, you are a gem! I am so happy you made that run again!

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Thank you, Larry! Hoping to try another one in the next few days and keeping my fingers crossed that it all works out!

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Me too! Sending healing and rejuvenating energy and love your way. 🧡

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And I love the vocal, too!

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