by Judith W. Monroe

Created on: November 07, 2008

Seasonal Affective Disorder

So depressing. This flipping through

a writers's magazine. Advice there

gets intermingled with Truman Capote

look-a-like celebs followed by sultry bios

of poetry's enfante terribles,

or interviews with their distant cousins;

break through babes-in- the-woods.

All willing to describe success.

Oh god, these rags for the unprepared

are wintery, relentless in excusing their mission,

always the forecast of "later" in you neck of the woods

when longer days and sunshine finally arrive.

Dont be misled by assurances of an early thaw.

Just hunker down there, now, for the storm season,

and if you go out, they say, follow the plowed path.

Too much time ourside, however,

and you will risk frost bite.

Good weather with a publisher, like a muse,

is unpredictable, unlikely as housing

for the homeless, and yet, something drives us

out into the cold dark sleet of days in seach of one.

Even the old veterans who write for love alone.

Yet we seem to have a corner of our minds

fixed, where whatever else happens,

our meantimes are spent

beside a window scraped free of frost,

keeping a look-out for spring.

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