Reading, Dreams, and Poetry

Dear Mom,

I don’t remember you ever reading, but you did crossword puzzles. To me, that’s harder.

Last night before I went to sleep I finished Meet Me: Writers in St. Louis by Catherine Rankovic. Excellent book. I had no idea we’re so fortunate to have so many writers from St. Louis. My reading list just got longer.

I also listened to Sightlines by Janet Riehl. It touches your heart in so many ways, and what a beautiful tribute to her family.

Then I read a chapter from Stranger by the River by Paul Twitchell.

I knew when I went to sleep, traveling to other places, writing—particularly poetry—would surface. And sure enough as I entered back into semi-consciousness, here’s what I heard:

Pounding head!
I stay wrapped in the covers.
My bladder demands more attention—
slither out of bed,
drag my body,
feet shuffling like my Parkinson’s Dad,
back and hip hurt too,
shoulder has a kink,
eyes less than a slit.
This cleanse gives you energy?
Hurry up coffee maker!