Today's poem likely began life somewhat larger than the version I'm sharing with you.
That's not unusual. When a poem ... or what may become a poem ... begins to present itself to me, I often just let the words just go trickling across the page.
Sometimes that works. Sometimes not.
In between that kind of beginning, and publication, there is a lot of revision. That usually means tightening.
Fewer words. More left to the imagination of the reader.
Does this one work? Well, the editor thought it did ... but I tend to think the reader has the final say on that.
If you've ever watched the sunshine come crawling (swarming?) through a window, the poem may work for you as it did for me. If not, well, ... it may still be food for thought:
INTERLUDE
See how the sun
comes crawling
through the window,
like hungry bees
on a single sprig
of goldenrod.© 1997
(originally published in Midwest Poetry Review)
Today's word: crawling
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