Perhaps we five women looked like this poetic revolutionary last night at a local restaurant? I hope so. I've always wanted my hair to have the contemporary flair that she has.

Seriously, we were a bit blatant about our ambitions too, with poetry books spread on the table, one of my copied poems at every plate (gulp), indepth, fun conversation over appetizers and ice cream. I love the fact that I can have such wonderful dialogue with women that I care about. For me, the caring is as important as the poetry. Perhaps it equals the same.

We were at different experience levels with poetry. One remembered the rigors of metrical, formulated verse from high school. She's sadly carried this as the definition of poetry all these years, and she's now 47. One friend wants to return back to herself, which is poetry's role. The hunger and light in her eyes spoke of need and hope. The power of words .... It's interesting to see what called each of them out from their busy, work performance lives. One of the poems we all marveled about is one by James Wright which I post below. Enjoy!

A Blessing -- James Wright (1927-1980)

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have gladly come out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.