I cook, clean, pick up the kids,
clean again, cook some more, and now I'm done
with cooking and cleaning and kids ...
I voted, raised children, fed the dog, and loved a husband
I've written hundreds of words, each day, for over a month
I've driven to writers meetings, submitted my work, explored the options ...
Yesterday, there was a fire almost disastrous, scarring acres of land along the 60 Freeway.
Yet, I wrote.
The laundry washed and folded, stacked and put away
I am useful. Yet I've written, conquering another day.
How reproachful are the eyes of my terrier, his hung leach besought
down he lies at my feet, his fur warm, willing to stay.
I wrote, as a deceptive cadence was played
I wrote, while over the strings a persistent bow swayed
I wrote, when the sky darkened and the owl hooted
Oblivious to time,and space, wrote as if I prayed.