The Painted Ladies have hustled through the Bay Area and are reportedly in farther Northern California now. I don't know if I could have stood it for another day, so many dustings of delicate purpose rolling by without cease (except at night). The butterflies left are black and tiny white, and far fewer. It felt as if I was holding my breath for a week.
National Poetry Month rolls on, however, and along with it the daily poem. Here are some more places to look for inspiration, thanks to Kristin Berkey-Abbott. I'm finding the daily poem more of a challenge this year. My standards are higher, woe is me. I've been reading too much Whitman and Dickinson and I may not have recovered my low literary morals yet.
Bumping it up to the current post again: the daily chapbook giveaway continues. Tomorrow, however, I'm going to do the math and put the East and West coast on an equal footing in terms of who gets there first. Though nobody said you couldn't enter more than one day! I like equality, especially today, when I've just been studying the American Revolution.