I look out the second-story window of my home and smile at the snow atop bushes, across lawns, streaking rooftops. I am grateful for this Michigan winter, the season I missed most while in Belgium. Normally Belgian winters are mild, much like the coastal-side of the Pacific Northwest, where the grass stays green during the shortest days of the year, where snow infrequently falls and rarely sticks around. So the irony is not lost on me to hear from my partner that Belgium is running out of salt due to this year’s abundant snowfall. His mother recalls that it’s the first time in many, many years since the snow covered her country’s ground for longer than a month.
This morning I’m reflecting upon my Valentine’s weekend, when I joined writers for a winter workshop with Laura Apol at the Leaven Center in Lyons, Michigan. Snow blanketed the warm lodge where we explored “The Sacred in Everyday Life.” In contrast to the pale of candy-coated verse on Hallmark cards, we read robust love poems inspired by the mundane – a cigarette, a town, even pasta. We crafted words into visions of our bodies, savory foods, surprising objects, and more, much more than can be captured in a blog post.
It was my third time attending a Leaven writing workshop, and I again found inspiration at this place along the Grand River. A pair of swans, some distance from but within sight of one another, float on the river’s surface. Between riverbank and high ground, deer tracks form steep lines. Once perched on nearby treetops, a pair of bald eagles glides above the river. It’s no surprise that in nature’s company inspiration abounds and, equally so, in the Leaven lodge – haven, home away from home, safety zone without wifi.
I look forward to drawing upon the wealth of resources shared during the workshop, which no doubt will carry me beyond this second half of Michigan’s winter. It was an honor to learn from poet Laura Apol, as well as my co-participants who gathered from eastern, western, and mid-Michigan. In closing this morning meditation, I am glad to share some of my fruits from the weekend.
- belly
amid a range
of peaks
is a dome
ridged by
a spine of stone
this mound
shields a maze
of caves
dark damp
dense
the soft shell
warmed by sun
washed by rain
kissed by wind
is the breach
of earth to sky
where flesh joins soul
when birth holds death
here is riot and rest
here is home
chocolate
we cross paths
on occasion
in public where i
am better behaved
than at home
at night
alone
with no one standing
between me and
my desire
the more effort required
to transgress
my better judgment
the less likely i am
to feed
this attraction
though i take care
not to starve
my appetite
and run the risk
of its ravages
so i best keep my distance
the space is safe
it is my best defense
against too much
pleasure at the cost of
happiness
while indulgence of
a certain kind is fine
i best keep you
beyond fingers’ reach
