Cobbled

I have cobbled a life from many smaller ventures.  Four years ago, there was one center to my existence.

I woke up mornings with an ache in my jaw.  Went through the motions.  Practiced performance.

Since then, I am following the words of a mentor and trusting the mystery.  I have gathered experience and opportunity like patches for a quilt.

I stitch them together.  I reflect.  I’ve listened to the same music for hours, then moved on to a new song.

I’ve pondered my irritations and reconsidered my voice.  I have written new poems and stopped deleting rough drafts.

I have followed another mentor’s advice and created folders to keep old ideas in.  You never know when an idea from two months ago might find the right purpose today.

So I cobble or bricolage or whatever the word might be.  I reconsider and reconcile wherever needed.

Tennessee. JD blogs about books at readingandlitresources.blogspot.com and has a new poetry collection just published, A Five-Year Journey.