Gathering of Poets

The first Wednesday of the month we sit around the table and share poems written with care and revised. We take in their shapes and forms and read between the lines. We gasp with wonder about creations and search for other words to make each verse stronger. Each of us has written volumes by now the lives we shared month-by-month. A retired lawyer has returned from his vacation in Spain and I’m back from four years of traveling through the Midwest for work. The sights shape nuances of our pieces. Each of us takes the time allowed to read and get feedback but time slips from our fingers. At eight PM, the library closes. Our conversations continue in the hallways and as we move toward the stairs. I take in the sight of paintings and stop when I see the shadow of the group’s founder on the wall. She nods at me.