still mad at my muse
Forcing myself to write a poem today was a good thing, as it often is.
I lived for a few years in a little haven in a small field in the middle of a forest on top of a hill. We rented a house on the property where the landlord also lived in a historic house (1812) with a big barn and cute red chicken coup. Among their birds were varying numbers of peacocks. I’ve wanted to write some peacock poems ever since. They’re quite magical.
So today, because I’m working on the “mad at my muse” challenge, my first peacock poem is posted at “i am maureen.” Leave me a note here if you need the password.