August Postcard Poetry Fest, day 3

There is something freeing and daring about writing in the moment. There is no time for the inner editor/critic to berate you for your vision or choice of words. Part of why I love the postcard fest is that I never know what will emerge from one of the photos I choose for the day's card. Sometimes it's just the spontaneity of a postcard I bought at the drug store. It's almost always a window into my subconscious.

Of course, the other reason to love this undertaking is the gift of 31 poems and postcards from 31 poets. I find myself running to check the mailbox several times a day, like I used to when I was a kid and I had a penpal.

This is a poem written for my favorite photograph, of all the photos my husband took on our trip last summer to Kyrgyzstan. There is something in the comfort and peacefulness of these two people that appeals to me.

Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, 2009  photo by N. Halin

 

The way silence keeps it council
for us, the way it lengthens
like late shadow.  The way
sunlight touches us together.
The way cobblestones heave
then settle into a new language
as we walk. The way our footfalls
find their perfect synchrony.