May day, grey day

Cold day, old day of dreams

Spring day, ring day

of the bell to begin day.

Of taking out the trash bin

of shedding the snakeskin

of clearing out the cupboard, standing on the diving board,

of plunging into this.

Poetry day, writing day,

fighting day, fighting with laziness, with stress, with excess

with trying to impress

the reader.

Is the reader then the writer?

The biter, the biter bitten, smitten

Unwritten with the delete button?

And the buttonhole, the keyhole, the porthole?

Ready for the button?  Don’t push it. Stroke it and look, a surprise!

A woman – to sympathize, energize, capsize, to recognize and fantazise

and at last, to burst into a swarm of dragonflies before your tired eyes.