I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance?
I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them.
Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog.
I am using blog comments as a way to stay on the 7 day streak. My life is far too boring to blog enthusiastically 7 days a week. Have fun visiting with your grandson.
AmyJo-Spring's on the way! Thank you! I really have nothing against rhyme, only against insisting it is necessary or it's not poetry. This would exclude some of my favorite poets - TS ELiot and e e cummings, for example. Shakespeare rhymed all those sonnets and they're lovely. The key to rhyme is using it well.
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