This week I’ll finish pulling together and organizing my talks for the workshop at The Barn that begins on the 21st. I’m also finalizing my schedule for NYC where I’ll go from Honesdale. So far I’ve scheduled visits with editors at Scholastic, Holiday House, and Dutton. I’m currently working on books with the first two and have published in the past with the third. I look forward to seeing everyone, catching up on news, and, who knows, doing a bit of brainstorming.
And sometimes New York inspires me to write. Here’s an example from a trip a few years ago.
Poems don’t grow like 4-leaf clovers,
I tell those who ask.
Please don’t shuffle along eyes down
hoping to spot one sprouting in the grass.
Start with anything I say.
An umbrella, for example,
reminds me of once in New York City —
windblown rain swirled down among buildings
like ocean currents through steep canyons,
schools of pedestrians darted in and out of
brightly colored shopping reefs,
cabbie sharks threatened tourists
with slashing sheets of water.
Street vendors switched stock
from knock-off watches to cheap black umbrellas
about as substantial as paper ones
stuck in fancy drinks.
Start with an umbrella,
see where it takes you.
If there’s no poem there, fine.
At least you’ll remember Times Square —
umbrellas sucked inside out
like squids with their tentacles raised,
flapping black sheets above their heads
in the sudden rain.
(c) by David L. Harrison