Extra things

Today I would like to sit on the park bench and talk with Emily Dickinson. We would talk about writing. We would talk about what a very few words can do. Maybe we wouldn't say much at all. She would understand the very clutteredness of Lent. She would understand the irony, the almost sigh of relief whe
n Easter comes.

Everyone it seems

Produces extra things

For Lent:

More words and poems

Fill the mailbox

Fill my head

Fill my heart

Connections become

Somehow imperative

In these forty days,

In this wilderness,

In this damned March snow.

It is as if

This is the only time

Anyone really pays attention

Quick

Quick

It’s Lent

Quick

Easter is coming.

Then it will be

Too late.