I thought about not posting today. But, when I considered this, I thought about how hard I’ve worked over the last one and a half years to network with fellow Poetry Friday participants. They have grown to be an important source of support and opportunity for me. Therefore, I knew I had to come up with something to post.
This week has been odd. My husband’s been sick – he’s almost never sick and when he is, it’s only for a day or two. But, Friday is here and he’s still not back to normal. His illness started on Sunday. Even so, we got two days of work done on our new driveway, installing erosion cloth. There’s more to be laid, but that will get done as soon as the weather cooperates.
Don’t you know? Winter has arrived in the upper mid-west! The change in weather prompted this little ditty from my view this morning.
White snow fades into green grass
Soon a blanket forms
Turning Fall into Winter © Draft, Carol Labuzzetta, 2021 Other changes this week have been draining. My mom, who was recently hospitalized and spent time in both a transitional care unit and long term care facitlity is now home again with my Dad. While one would think this was cause for celebration, it brings a whole host of new worries, and there have been transitional issues already. They are 84 and 85. September 11th - November 11th have been eight weeks of daily heavy emotional drainage. Ruts form when there isn't good drainage. We've been home exactly two weeks from our National Parks trip, which was outstanding, but also tiring. We were very active hiking each day 6-10 miles. The normalcy to our routine has not returned yet. The reasons for this are partially due to the events I've described above. Some of you know that I've been working on a chap book of poetry on the theme of color. I submitted to one chap book contest and was not successful in being selected. I am now working on self-publishing the collection. I've had both alpha and beta readers, one of which is a Poetry Friday contributor - Densie Krebs. Denise was fabulous both in her support of my work and sincere suggestions to make it even better! I feel indebted to her! I appreciate the feedback on these poems from all who have read them. Over the last few months, I worked to incorporate their suggestions. I feel that they are ready to be seen by interested readers and I think due to the subject matter, self-publishing is the way to go. I worked on the chap book this summer, performing both editing and formating, as well as looking into the world of indie publishing. There is a lot to learn but I tried to seek out sources from whom I could acquire what I needed to know. The Anthologies 201 course offered by Janet Wong and Sylvia Vardell of Pomelo Books was extremely helpful with extending my knowledge. I am very grateful to them for their generosity. The last thing that occured this week is that I was able to share the poetry book, THINGS WE DO, with my mom. But, I had to ask for a response from her with regards to my poem, INVENT, or even her thoughts about receiving the book, in general. I cannot tell you how disappointing this was for me. I know she is not "in her right mind" anymore, but there was failure to acknowledge my hard work and persistence in getting one of my poems published. This was a bond between us, or so I thought, for many years. It is no longer there; I am so sad to say. I know now that I need to write only for myself, not to impress my mom or tout my own value. Writing is a creative outlet for me and I intend to continue to pursue it for my own pleasure, and hopefully, the pleasure of my readers. I thank them, and all of you, for the continued support. As a rut formed in our driveway this summer, we regrouped, reassigned, and pressed onward. I will get out of my own rut, too. I know I will. It just takes time. And, it will help once the traveled ground freezes.
Today is Poetry Friday. Our host this week is Matt Forrest Esenwine at Radio, Rhythm, and Rhyme. Thanks for hosting Matt! Please stop by his page to leave your link or just read some great poetry!
The Apples in My Orchard 
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