My poetry post has sat empty for two months. Yes, two whole months. I’m a slacker. What else can I say? It’s been at the bottom of my task list for
the past two months. I’d start to work
on it but, inevitably, I’d be interrupted by Barnaby taunting me with some form
of contraband in his mouth. Last month, he was obsessed with the cardboard roll
inside the roll of toilet paper. And
this month, he’s hunting my scarves and rain jacket. He’s sneaky and quick, that one. Fortunately, he'll hand over anything for a spoonful of yogurt.
Earlier this week, I was out front pruning back some
Japanese Coltsfoot leaves that had toppled over in the rain and onto the
driveway. A blue sedan pulled up to my
curb with a family of four inside and their dog. The man rolled down his window and waved me over
to the car.
He looked over my shoulder at the poetry box and asked,
“What gives?”
I hung my head with a smile and confessed, “I’ve been
slacking. I’ve been meaning to get to it.”
“It’s just wrong to have an empty poetry box. I’ve been
hoping to see someone out here so that I could ask about it. We loved the poems
that you were putting in it. I even
brought a copy of the E.E. Cummings poem home to my wife.”
“I carry your heart...very romantic,” his wife commented with a smile and touched
his hand.
So, here is my new picture and poem in my poetry
box. I promise to do my best to keep it
full. I had no idea that it mattered so
much to my neighbors.