So, I wanted to share a poem on here. I randomly wrote it while sitting indian style, in the fall wind with a cup of tea. I have found that connecting with my muse has become easier with practice, agreed? Also in learning about the different elements found in poetry and being able to recognize them I have found that they have helped me grow as a writer. I've gotten some really good base work from picking one element like we do in class and writing a poem using just that. It has also lead to me being able to better understand the true meaning of it. I really enjoy the fact that i see the improvements in my writing. In connecting with my muse and just writing whatever comes to mind, the elements seem to just find themselves coming out on my paper without me even meaning to. I like that it is becoming more natural rather than forced. Anyway, here is the poem that I'd like to share, and feedback is always welcome : )

"The Flow of Fall"

I unhook the rusty lock of my

white crackled paint door

the cat door knocker staring at me

as if to say "good morning" or

"get me off this wooden plank, its starting to hurt my back."

Its saturday-which means the new york times includes a magazine

and there will be tea with honey

from the bear container

distorted-from 3 extra seconds in the microwave

I take my tip-toed steps outside

as if the whole house is sound asleep

but leaves-they crunch-with any steps on days like this

my sigh I see in frosty air holds words from unsaid thoughts

of wonder- do they feel the same way i do?

a flow of fall plays hide and seek in my eyes

but tears give away their spot too soon

so it runs instead to safety-or more pulled

to the tip of my nose

leading to my first breath, the first smell of the season

that finds my perfect morning.