When it comes to defining what I do
what thing it is that surrounds me daily
the choices may not be simply a few
the different realms I enter gaily
I start down the road each morning seeing,
noting the view, the light and the seasons
but what to expect and come into being –
not as easy to follow the reasons.
I’m not saying each one’s not a passion
that consumes me, my life, nights and days
they don’t come and go, a fickle fashion
but each representing myriad ways.
Am I writer, quilter or poet then?
I share my vision however I can.
5 April 2013