The First Hundred Days

A poet friend offered a challenge: Could I write 100 poems in 100 days? More than that: Would I share them with a group of strangers?

Some days words flew; other days I floundered. I kept writing. Almost three hundred poems later, I write every day.

You can do this, too.

It doesn't have to be good
or, rather, I don't have to be,
Mary said
as her geese flew toward
greener things