Willow, the Wonderdog, aka the Wrath of Lizards

.

Today is a dash-about day, so here’s something quick before I dash to the woods with my patient, long-suffering dog. Yes, Willow, I love you more than poetry. You know why? Because despite what they say about dogs and prose, you ARE poetry.

Today’s prompt challenges us to write a self-portrait poem in which we make a specific action a metaphor for our life.

PS–Most of the poems written this April will remain online for up to five days, after which they will be replaced by an excerpt, an erasure, or a thoroughly amateurish art piece that will only allow for bits of the original poem to peek through. At least, this is the plan. The reason being that, at some point, in the hopefully not too distant future, these drafts will undergo revision and begin their multiple-year pilgrimage through the slush piles of many a literary journal. So help me, O Muse.

PPS–Since five days have already passed, the original poem has been replaced by an erasure. No trees have been harmed in the process. The fully cooperating pine cones will be promptly released back into the wild.

Poetry from the trenches, Day 1

.