In the early days, when I received an acceptance of something I'd written, I felt like dancing on the table in celebration.
In all honesty, I never did dance on the table (or anywhere else, for that matter). But I did feel like dancing, and the table seemed the appropriate place ... then.
I still don't dance on the table.
But then I got an e-mail from Finishing Line Press, publisher of Chance of Rain, my collection of poems all about rain, or its absence ...
Gist of the e-mail: "Congratulations! Your book is now listed on Amazon.com ... "
Oh, wow! I was so excited about that ... and I still am ...
But now, the poem:
Winter rain trickles
and skitters this evening
as it travels down the slope
of my skylight, like spent
minutes picking their way
through another lonely
night, or a speckled mirror
held to reflect the tangled
yarn basket of my mind.
(One of my poems from Chance of Rain, a small, limited-edition collection, issued by Finishing Line Press)
Today's word: dancing