Early in the day, on Monday, I read a Facebook post by a pastor friend: "6:45 AM and it's still dark. It's good to pay attention, and to be grounded in the rhythms of God's creation."
I wrote this response: "In late June, I went through a period where I'd wake up for the day at 2 a.m. Happily it didn't last long, but while it did, I was astounded at the riotous birdsong that was happening as the rest of the world slept. I'd write while the birds sang, and if it wasn't for my later in the day exhaustion, I might have kept to that schedule. I felt like I was in on a secret world, that birds get up even before monks to sing praise to our Creator!"
Tuesday morning, I tried to transform that post into a poem; here's my first draft:
While the world sleeps
through the earliest
hours of the morning,
the birds erupt
in riotous song.
As the clock moves
from 3 to 4, the monks join
the chorus, chanting Psalms
in ancient rhythms.
My song takes up less space,
but is no less glad.
I write poems on purple
paper, a quiet plainsong.
I actually prefer the FB post. I tried cutting and pasting that post on the page, but couldn't find a poem rhythm. There's something there, though, something that wants to be a poem.
I put both pieces of writing on a piece of paper. I took the paper with me to my day of many meetings, but I didn't have a chance to return to it. I have a vague worry that I lost the piece of paper somewhere along the way, but even if someone at the school which is my workplace finds it, I'm not concerned. The notes that I took during one of the meetings, on the other hand, those I should keep an eye on.
I've been looking at old blog posts which have sent me to old poetry notebooks. Once I typed up everything I wrote and sent it out. Later, I only sent out the poems that I envisioned including in a book with a spine--that left lots of poems out. Should I go back and revisit any of them? What about the scraps that I've kept in the notebooks?
I'm not feeling particularly stymied/uninspired this week, but I should remember this archive of notebooks the next time that I am.