Harmonic Listening

A friend once chided me about my love for David L. Lindsey’s detective Stuart Hayden. Hayden drives a Jaguar Vanden Plas, lives in a house with a porte-cochere, and serves Chablis to his old collie. I admit now that I partly loved the detective because he lived the life (sans murder and crime) I wanted to live as a writer. Like most writer wannabes, I dreamed of a writing life that didn’t require one to work a job outside of writing. A writing life of, preferably, literary fiction and not newspaper articles.

This year I finally embraced my library career AND my writing. Just as Laurie Patton’s article, It’s OK to Be a Writer and a ________, suggests one should do because “ much of writing occurs while doing something else, because the base of poetic inspiration, the supporting drone, is always there.”

No need to be separate to write. So I go to work; I talk with my husband and friends; I watch the world go by, and I write.



Harmonic Listening


I cook eggs,
a touch added
of cheese and heavy cream
because I like
them fluffy and rich.

I despair
at the news, 
seemingly full
always of one person
hurting, a group
hurting, without end.

I go to work,
help one person,
a group, find what
is needed
to solve that problem.

I write my poems
and the small
stories of which
I am able. Learning
to trust this voice
I am claiming.

It is enough, I find,
the murmur of  
my voice, one in
a joyful noise
of others, lifted
to the fulsome air.

Curious to see more of my writing?  Visit me – Brenda Joyce Patterson – on Facebook, Twitter, and my website.

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