Writing a book: it’s something I’ve always thought about, never chased, but now I have. Last fall, reading Shel Silverstein poems before bed, my son asked me to make him a book with my poems.
He finds me in the mornings writing at a table in our living room. He sees the journals I carry with me to and from work, in tractors, trucks, and whatever else we may find ourselves working from for the day.
It wasn’t a book I planned to write, but sometimes things just write themselves. I found inspiration, a voice, and a message, and these are the poems that came from it. I am grateful for the opportunity to share them now with all.