(Updated 17 April 2010, on the one-year anniversary of my father's passing.)
Beyond the sweet tang of wild pomegranates splitting open
so their seeds spill out into the soil
with the phantom fragrance of citrus blossoms still on the wind…
This poem (there are three more stanzas) has been in-work for roughly five years. I've recently finished it, now in April, of 2010), but was able to give a solid version of the poem to my father before he died. It's about his favorite place near our home, about both his and my experiences there as metaphors for the grand creative universal spirit, and the intimacy that can be found with it through nature.
For your creative writing journal or to share at the blog. NOW IT'S YOUR TURN: Tell about an exotic place you remember or imagine. Try for one to three pages. Be as descriptive as you can, using all of your senses.