So much of what I write, both poetry and narrative nonfiction, deals with what is tragic, painful, desparate and seemingly hopeless in the world to the point anyone reading what I write would think I’m a deeply unhappy person.
I am now, and have almost always been, a very happy person who acknowledges the joy in my life every day.
To prove it I challenged myself to write a poem about all the happy and joyful times in my life every day for 9 days, the Jewish number of special blessing.
I’m writing one every day so they may not be the most polished poems I ever wrote, but hopefully I pass a little of my good feeling on to you.
Pikes Peak, August 1996
Whisps of hair tickle then whip
across my cheeks
with the breezes and gusts
and a small gentle pat to the back of my neck
remind me grandson is snug in his baby backpack.
He peaks around my head with a small smile for the camera.
certain I can see all the way to God from here.
My view from on top of the world.