I sit at my writing desk in case I am inspired
remembering my first Zona Rosa gathering
where fertile, creative minds congregated.
Rosemary said to one member, "Say you are
a thinking-woman's Mary Higgins Clark."
She said, "Be patient. Let your soul follow
your body, I laughed at the letter she read
from a former Zona Rosan that said,,
"I moved after breaking up with that rat-faced
bastard I thought was my new boyfriend."
"The woman who spills words all over herself"
read homework about a fabulous fantasy,
a piece on toxic people, another filled
with incredible honesty. Then, she asked,
"What is the story you tell over and over?"
Rosemary said to remain single-minded.
Bingo. I liked that idea. The dinner menu
for tonight would be a helping, large or small
of "fend for yourself." I needed to figure out
what would fit into my van turned into a home
Rosemary read poetic words Marla wrote
about her murdered teacher whose classes
were spiritual and work from Elsa, who
feared spiders and penmed prose of Papa
"carrying the little casket under his arm."
I left the group a grateful visitor taking
with memories of a rainy Saturday
filled with inviting faces, treats so sweet
wine so fine and fuel that ignited me
to write my book or go mad and die.