A whole weekend away from First Aid and an intensive conference experience and an interesting transformation happens. You let loose, and you try new things! I find that conferences are very intense. I wrote my first poem in years and years -- crazy!
Bedsides, which is a "riff"* on Garden Variety, a poem by Colette Giles Tennant
All of my friends
in this garden of second chances
dance like spiders between the ceiling and a hardbound book.
On the ward,
safely tucked in between ER and home,
whatever brought them in momentarily at bay.
They lie on their backs
blue gowns mirroring blue scrubs,
and stare at that spot
between ceiling and wall--
space, TV, world beyond--
anywhere they would rather be--
waiting.
*first stanza lifted from her poem. Think of cooking something new as riffing on another's recipe.
When is your next weekend "off"? What will you do?
Bedsides, which is a "riff"* on Garden Variety, a poem by Colette Giles Tennant
All of my friends
in this garden of second chances
dance like spiders between the ceiling and a hardbound book.
On the ward,
safely tucked in between ER and home,
whatever brought them in momentarily at bay.
They lie on their backs
blue gowns mirroring blue scrubs,
and stare at that spot
between ceiling and wall--
space, TV, world beyond--
anywhere they would rather be--
waiting.
*first stanza lifted from her poem. Think of cooking something new as riffing on another's recipe.
When is your next weekend "off"? What will you do?
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