modern great
~ poetry snacks: bonus poem <3
The self care with sky newsletter will be coming to you every other Friday morning (ish). If you haven’t subscribed already, please do! It’s the best free way to support my writing and keep up-to-date on my reflective ramblings and poetry. And if you know someone who could use a pick-me-up, please share this newsletter with them. Cheers!
Good morning & happy Sunday! I hope your weekend is brimming with self care. I’m currently on my own little self care weekend away with my partner in Montreal. Yesterday, we visited the Biodome and explored Old Montreal, and today I’m sitting for the outline of my upper sleeve tattoo (very exciting!).
Getting away, when possible, is like soul food. It gives me so much perspective.
So naturally, when I travel, I get the itch to write. And because the creative well was feeling was bit dry of late, I was relieved when the familiar urge washed over me at, wait for it, 6:00 in the morning.
So, I pulled on my sweatpants and sneakers, packed a canvas bag in the dark and set off to find somewhere to write.
To challenge my perfectionistic tendencies, I only lightly edited the poem I’m about to share. I’ve learned that over-polishing can take away the humanity of writing.
So, if you see any grammar mistakes or typos, no you didn’t.
This poem was fueled by crisp autumn air and a warm, fluffy croissant.
Enjoy.
modern great |
like waking in a tent on a hot summer morning, I have to leave
find somewhere to watch the sun rise
use this time to appreciate where I am, who I am
--
ten minutes of shockingly brisk air stings my eyes
I peer through tears for something open at 6 a.m.
--
I see a human glow through a dirty window
the barista, he is friendly in an unusual way, all pointed canines and early morning curls around his ears, the rest pulled into an efficient bun
I tuck myself away, finding momentary heaven in a chocolate croissant and decaf cappuccino
my American sentiment is obvious as I pick out the unusual
they don’t bother with flavor concoctions
the wifi password is only by request
the coffee served in a petite cup and saucer (I debate getting another, washing down the first too quickly)
the seating is select, so it’s good I’m here early, says the man behind the counter
The walls, archaic brick with low ceilings
a place The Greats may have holed up for a morning of creative freneticism
I wait for the sun to rise
settling into the quiet bustle
no wifi password, no pen
just my Notes app and the remnants of chocolate and coffee lingering on my tongue
A tableau of a Modern Great, maybe. Love what you’ve read? Keep my mind buzzing and my fingers typing by treating me to a coffee! Your support keeps the inspiration flowing — thank you!
