I believe in being prepared for any given situation. It isn't because I'm a pessimistic person; I think it is just good common sense. Hence, I've entitled my blog "Even Nothing is Something."

This covers my butt in any event. On any given day I can feel great exaltation that I have done something grand. I can scribble fiercely when my thoughts are leaping across the meadows of my mind like a happy little colt in the month of May, or my mind and writing can be as dry and arid, as cold and without life, as the Gobi desert - because even Nothing is Something.

I want to thank all of my fellow artists who work through other means and forms and who sell their work on the wonderful artist's site "Etsy," a place to buy and sell all things handmade, along with vintage items and supplies for their craft. They are a great group of people.

Those who have links to their site on my blog represent only a few of those whom I wish to include. Just click on one of those links and join the Etsy community. It is free. They are a great group of artists who have relieved me of my money in the most delightful of ways. If it weren't for their encouragement, I would have never shared my work through this blog.

Thank you my darling friends!

Enjoy my blog - The Poet or Not - More or Less

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Another Apology to Caryn

I can't claim that the below poem is one of my best. But, I rather warned you when I said this was the blog of "The Poet or Not."

One winter day the ground was free of snow and the forecast gave us no warning when a sudden storm hit the Pocono Mountains and my husband and I found ourselves stuck at the bottom of the steep hill leading up to our community. Mothers who were meeting their kids at the bus stop were unable to make their way up this hill, and we found ourselves stuck at the bottom until everyone else had given up trying to tackle the steep slope.

Bruce is a great driver in the snow so we made it home. Within less than half an hour the woods around our home was transformed into the most beautiful winter scene. The snow was so heavy that many of the tree's branches were laying low to the ground. We were afraid that some of them were going to break from the weight, but by morning the snow had completely disappeared, as though it had never been.

I wrote this the following day. Several times I've sat and swivelled in my swivel chair, thinking I might bring some better literary talent to this piece of work; I did nothing but swivel. So here it is, just as it was.

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