And black are the waters that sparkled so green

[sovay]

My poem "Volta do Mar" has been accepted by Not One of Us. As the title suggests, it is a sea-poem, and it fell very suddenly out of my head in late October while I was trying to do something completely different.

I have had this same headache for three days now and it has most definitely worn out its welcome, but we had a nice Thanksgiving with my parents and a phone call from my brother and texts from rushthatspeaks and a Zoom call with my godchild, after which we returned home to share our bounty of turkey with appreciative (read: voracious) little cats. My mother took a picture as we prepared to leave. I think we look like a Tarot card in time of plague.

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[sovay]

Edit: the poem you titled the entry with, the Kipling...that poem is apropos and also a weird juxtaposition of lots of angles of my life and interests and I had not thought about it in years.

I read The Jungle Book as a child at my grandparents' house, curled up in the permanently parked-open recliner on the three-season porch; I didn't dislike the Mowgli stories, but I was enraptured by "The White Seal" and "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi." "Asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging seas" was one of the lines I carried with me for years. Now I miss my grandparents' edition. It was an old embossed hardcover and it disappeared during my childhood. My mother always thought it was returned to the library by mistake and the library sneakily kept it.

There was also a generous serving of nostalgia! Paper analogue nostalgia!

There was! I expected it even less than the banana cookbook, but am much happier for its existence!

Congratulations on the sale. *puts a paper-clip on it to mark it as a reprint for your next collection*

Thank you! (Totally.)