Weekly writing date with my Partner In Crime
Purr of traffic rendered irrelevant
by this oasis patio, lattice lined retreat
a Dia de la Mosta, with pie
chocolate cake coffee crumbs
and birdhouses cloaked in fancy
The open gate, the welcome path
the generous hearts whose favor
wafts from a kitchen hard at work
This place is ours today
tapping out words by the hundreds
Customers drift to the window and back
while we remain
champions of the keyboard
wizards over wifi
the roasting poblanos heralding
delectable dishes to come
Because I (apparently) enjoy suffering, I agreed to tackle NaNoWriMo this year with my daughter. Never mind that I don’t really write prose; she wanted to do it and I figured it would be a great experience for me to tag along. To promote togetherness, and encourage success, plus to get our tails out of the house, we have picked a different local cafe each week on Wednesday afternoons (school releases early) for a writing date. This poem is one I wrote at one of my absolute favorite places — a local wonder run by genuinely kind people who support the arts and make some incredibly delicious food, especially pies. The little garden area at their cafe is a unique gem!
To that end, I would like to offer up for your perusal the rough draft of a certain 13 year old’s novel. She shared it for the first time recently on Wattpad, and is keen for critiques. If you have a spare minute, I would be grateful for your reading eyes!
Prologue: The Skeleton Man
"I won't let you deposit human remains into the river," the gravedigger insisted. " Show respect for the dead." Roden…
PS I don’t speak Spanish; please pardon my playing with the language in the third line! The men who own Papi’s are Bolivian, and the Dia de Los Muertos decorations were still up, so I messed around with words; those guys are certainly the hosts with the mosts!