November 1st saw our first batch of snow here in Southern Finland, just as I was driving my car home from getting its winter tyres and service at the garage. Everything was sorted by the skin of my teeth. I was hoping the autumn weather would hang on for a bit longer, but there's no escaping from winter. The temps will bounce back up above zero after the weekend, but this was just a reminder to not get too comfortable.
I didn't manage to do much of Scotstober this year, but I have a handful of snippets, some poetic lines that I might try to do something with. I'm not getting much writing done, even when I was on holiday. Ideas rattled around but didn't stick. I can't seem to focus on writing and I have too many other things I need to do first before I can relax into poetry. Even today I was scanning documents for a child's school application and going through some course work rather than work on a poem.
I'm not worried, my writing is cyclical like the seasons. When I have been writing the past few months it's been autumnal, the fear of winter side-by-side with the love of the harvest season. The geese leaving me behind. Now, when it comes, my writing will be full of ice and frustration with the long, dark winter hibernating behind windows.
I sometimes feel I write the same poems over and over. Do I say it differently, better with age? I'm not sure. It's reassuring in a way because I know that I will move into the next season with a familiarity wrapped around me. And there's always a poem or two that pop up to surprise me because they are so different. That's worth moving through the too-familiar for a while.
Nothing else to really report, no publication news.
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