Daily April poem: what gets in the way

WHAT GETS IN THE WAY

Whatever gets in the way of the work

might be the roasting pan from last night's chicken

aswirl now with suds and schmaltz.

Might be the yellow pansies nodding bravely

in the window box outside the coffee shop.

The bitter dregs of coffee in a big white cup.

It might be the half-remembered dream

of ice floes, furlined coat, the little bird

vibrating like a beating heart in my hand.

It might be the little boy on Thomas sheets

who's thrown every single stuffed animal out of bed

and is waiting for me to intuit that he's alone.

What gets in the way of the work is this cold wind

whipping past my leather jacket to kiss my neck.

The daffodil-bright sign at the VFW.

And I'm blessed to gather this armful of images

and stitch them together with blue thread, because

whatever gets in the way of the work is the work

and whatever gets in the way of this day

is this day that the Lord has made:

let us rejoice and write poems in it.

 

 

 

This daily April poem wasn't written to any particular prompt. I stared for a while at my empty text window, waiting for an idea, and what came to me was the mantra I learned from my teacher Jason Shinder, of blessed memory: "Whatever gets in the way of the work, is the work." (I've written about that many times before.) That's what gave rise to this poem.