I’ve barely participated in Poetry Friday over the past few months, but happily I happened to stumble upon Amy Ludwig VanDerwater’s recent post, “Answer an Unasked Question“. I was utterly enchanted by her poem called “Answer”, a whimsical imagining of taking tea with the moon. Amy invited readers to “Think of something someone might wonder, real or pretend…and then write a poem answering this question.” I passed her invitation along to the Inklings for our monthly challenge.

Here’s my response to that challenge, along with a big nod of thanks to Mary Lee for sharing the mentor poem “Because of a Redwood” (which heavily influenced my poem’s structure) and to Joe Cottonwood for writing it. I also think a bit of influence seeped in from a little book I found long ago called “The Tiniest Sound” by Mel Evans.

Why?

Because when I step outside
and close my eyes
I can hear the sun 
rising above the horizon
inch by slow inch,
probing its warm, gentle rays
into piles of fallen leaves

Because there’s the faintest rustle
as frost loosens its grip
from limned leaves
of maple, aspen or oak,
shifts from glitter to flow,
then lets go
to drip
drop
onto crisply tousled grass
then slowly seep into waiting earth
where drowsy roots shift and murmur
in greeting and gratitude

Because I can feel the air
tremble and hum
in anticipation of the coming day
in all its fragile vulnerable wonderful newness

And because every single day
the birds waken, eager to sing
first a note or two
then a burgeoning chorus
that pierces the morning hush
like a beam of light striking a crystal,
splintering silence 
into a dazzling crescendo
of glorious, vibrant waves
that wash over me
again and again
So that anything
and everything
seems possible

©Molly Hogan, draft

If you’d like to read what the other Inklings did with this challenge, click on the links:

Linda Mitchell
Margaret Simon
Heidi Mordhorst
MaryLee Hahn

and be sure to visit Catherine Flynn who is hosting Poetry Friday today and will also be sharing her response.

Linda had our Inklings challenge this month and she responded with an invitation to “find or write a poem in any form of any length for Folktale Week November 14-20, 2022.” The folks at Folktale Week describe the prompts as an opportunity to “search for your favorite folktales, discover new ones, work on your own amazing art, or even write your own tales.” Here is the prompt list with their accompanying lush illustration:

Unfortunately, October truly threw me for a loop this year, and I’m still struggling to regain my equilibrium. Very little writing happened. Then, although I recognized the richness and flexibility of the prompt, I had a hard time finding my way in. I pondered using fool, or potion, or star. I stopped and started. My thoughts turned time and again to tree and I remembered something about the Norse sacred tree, Yggdrasil (though I did not remember the name without a Google search). I don’t know much about Norse mythology or this tree, but remembered it was central to the universe. I was drawn to that idea–a tree uniting worlds, central to all. There’s some sort of infinite healing potential about a tree.

This poem doesn’t really feel ready for the light of day, and it surely doesn’t offer a tale, but I didn’t want to forgo participating in Linda’s challenge. I apologize in advance for the maudlin bent, but it seems to be what’s emerging from my pen these days.

Hand pressed to tree
I stand
alone
soul barked and bruised
yearning to be
rooted to earth
while soaring upward
bridging worlds

yearning to cleave
to now and then
to here and there

Hand pressed to tree
I stand
still
whilst splintering
in all directions

©Molly Hogan, draft

If you’re interested in how the other Inklings responded to the challenge, check out the links below:

Linda Mitchell
Margaret Simon
Catherine Flynn
MaryLee Hahn

Also, this week the Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Heidi Mordhorst who’s sharing her response to the Inkling challenge. Be sure to stop by My Juicy Little Universe and check out what she has on offer!