I do best when working on a book, as I have been, various books, various subjects, for over twenty years. A hobby as of yet, for I don’t try and sell them. This was my first volume, about mothering. My writing practice is nearing middle age!

If Creativity Was a Living Creature

Innovation is cactus and orchid,
venus fly trap and opiate poppy.
As animal, ruminant and carnivore,
four digesting stomachs with stomach acid.

If artistry is a human,
it was fed on demand,
breastfed until nipples toughened,
then like most children with
exhausted mothers put on a schedule,
trained to sleep through the night.

Cultivating creativity is like caring for your teeth.
A celebration of tiny buds as
the baby gums the toothbrush,
then for a toddler,
you must beg, bribe and threaten,
be a bucking bronco on the way to the bathroom.
Adolescence is a similar tryst,
beer dates with computer at the tavern.

Finally, the practice becomes
like two sweethearts,
married for many years.
They must make dates for lovemaking.
Yet every now and then,
one flicks a dish towel suggestively,
the other gives chase to the bedroom.