Day 365: Committing to Myself

On September 26, 2025, I wrote a poem. And because it did not take too long (poems are short) I wrote another on September 27. Today, one year later, I have 120 pages of poetry gathered, just by adding a few minutes to my morning routine. This has been an experiment with consistency, and once I discovered that it was just as easy to add them to a doc each day, I began to write a short daily note for Substack.

I have no idea what many of these poems mean (they are usually written pre-coffee number 4) and most need some editing and work with line breaks, but I feel accomplished. I have maintained a habit, a creative one at that. This has taught me that I am capable and that I have access to a well of ideas, I just need to extract them from my morning brain.

So here is one to chew on:

May 16,
Threads, colors,
swirling colors,
the motion of fabric,
silk, ballerina style,
planets orbiting stars, (circles, cycles within cycles, cylindrical, spinning)
A child,
with arms outstretched,
spinning until dizzy –
collapsing on damp grass laughing
(joy, fragments evaporate, textured)
early morning songbirds chattering,
waiting to be found within the sea of life –
(sun rising, setting, waves, emerging, receding)
the ocean breeze gathers grains of sand –
beneath which lies ancient civilizations,
connected to stardust,
(evolving, loving, living, dying, renewing, regenerating)
cyclones of light,
scattering from smile to smile-
slipping into the fabric of the universe,
frayed, vibrant,
alive (never falling into stillness until the last breath escapes, only to return again, gasping)
and
welcoming.