12:22 p.m. Today I get my first ever dental filling. I’m not even nervous, but it is a little irritating to have to use part of my day to do this. And they told me to eat ahead of time, and I’m not hungry lol.
Full disclosure, I started thinking of this one about half an hour ago. I was locking my door. It’s a gray day, but it felt brighter for a moment.
A moment in the sunlight but not quite— the light just brightened a bit and I thought I saw a shadow cast on my door like the clouds had broken but it was just a token of what will be tomorrow.
12:26 p.m. Not quite what I was thinking of but I like it.
Let’s hope for sunlight tomorrow.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
1:42 p.m. How do I write about all the things that are going through my head and heart right now? No sooner do I get a handle on one emotion than another is crowding the first one out.
I know. TMI. But I feel like that’s something we’re all experiencing pretty much all the time.
Last night I’m taking pictures of my daughter for prom and got a notification that shots had been fired at the White House Correspondents Dinner.
I ignored it.
I mean, this headline that once would have filled me with absolute horror meant absolutely nothing to me. I just didn’t care.
Seriously…what the hell? How can I not care about something like that? Even in the middle of one of my life’s most bittersweet moments.
I don’t think I’m wrong, and I really don’t think I’m alone.
Thus, today’s poem.
Out of the Fray by Michelle Garren-Flye
Far away gunfire doesn't shake the world in my neck of the woods. I'm too busy here trying to make life last in the local neighborhoods.
The headline that once would shatter a delicate moment of family glee now doesn't seem that much to matter; no, no it's difference at all to me.
I feel this change in my bones but I will continue to forge ahead. The world's quandaries and unknowns can no longer fill me with dread.
This is my corner and where I will stay. Just leave me out of the rest of the fray.
1:58 p.m. It’ll need to be edited a bit before publication, but that’s what I have for now.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
10:09 a.m. And here we are at day 25 of National Poetry Month. I’m drinking mushroom coffee, waiting for the day to start. It’s a big one. Senior Prom day for my daughter. Indie Bookstore Day. There’s a 5K in our little town. And it’s the day I write my 25th poem of the month.
Let’s go, then.
turn the open sign sip your coffee...wait for it the door will open and there they will be bringing the day in with them shattering your peace any minute now you hear them come...wait for it but no, they passed by they'll bring life with them when they open up the door sun and wind and rain family love shows hand in hand...just wait for it laughter lights your heart the sign says open and you've prepared a smile ready and waiting
10:21 a.m. It’s six haikus, not sure you’d notice. I like the flow of it. I think I like it better centered, but I can’t figure out how to do that on my blog. Of course. I’m certain there is a way.
Open by Michelle Garren-Flye
turn the open sign sip your coffee...wait for it the door will open and there they will be bringing the day in with them shattering your peace any minute now you hear them come...wait for it but no, they passed by they'll bring life with them when they open up the door sun and wind and rain family love shows hand in hand...just wait for it laughter lights your heart the sign says open and you've prepared a smile ready and waiting
10:34 a.m. Giving up. I do like it better centered. Screenshot below:
11:05 a.m. Yes, the day started.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
11:53 a.m. I’m late today because I was at a high school awards ceremony. My daughter won a scholarship for performing arts. I’ve watched her develop as an actress and singer since she was six years old. Mostly backstage, but I’ve been lucky enough to be onstage with her some, too. But where I usually am is backstage or in the audience. That got me thinking about being backstage.
rustles and whispers engage and you see a different play from the shadows of backstage
it may feel it lasts an age or that time has slipped away as rustles and whispers engage
you know every line on the page and for the actors you pray from the shadows of backstage
war is something you cannot wage and in vain you will try to stay the rustles and whispers that engage
spotlight doesn't reach the cage behind the curtains to the fray in the shadows of backstage
in the end, you may feel your age as if you're suddenly old and gray in rustles and whispers that engage from the shadows of backstage
12:15 p.m. Not too bad.
Backstage by Michelle Garren-Flye
Rustles and whispers engage, and you see a different play from the shadows of backstage.
It may feel it lasts an age, or that time has slipped away as rustles and whispers engage.
You know every line on the page as do the actors, you pray, from the shadows of backstage.
War is what they must not wage, and in vain you will try to stay the rustles and whispers that engage.
Spotlight doesn't reach the cage behind the curtains to the fray in the shadows of backstage!
In the end, you may feel your age as if you're suddenly old and gray in rustles and whispers that engage from the shadows of backstage.
12:29 p.m. Villanelle seemed to suit this one. It’s supposed to be sort of lighthearted. Backstage drama usually is, even if it seems like the end of time right at that moment.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
10:22 a.m. Iris season is almost over, I guess, but man was it a good one. Purple, yellow, blue, white. I saw them all. The flowers look too big to stand up on the stalks. Almost like they float.
10:47 a.m. Took a break to chat with some nice people who stopped in. Let’s see if we can write a sonnet about irises.
Iris season is nearly over filled with blooms vibrant in color yellow, blue, purple amidst the clover without them, our days may be duller.
fat purple blossoms made me laugh yellow buds always brightened my day wispy white whirl atop green staff whimsical but now about to go away.
An empire falls in my garden the beauty of spring is laid low summer's approach begs no pardon it's all just a part of the flow.
so enjoy the iris only within reason they'll be gone with the change of season.
11:00 a.m. That took a few. Let’s do a quick cleanup.
Fall of the Iris by Michelle Garren-Flye
Iris season is nearly over; 'twas filled with blooms vibrant in color: yellow, blue, purple amidst the clover. Without them, our days may be duller.
Fat purple blossoms made me laugh; yellow buds always brightened my day. Wispy white whirl atop green staff— whimsical but now fading away.
An empire falls in my garden. The beauty of spring is laid low. Summer's approach begs no pardon; it's all about going with the flow.
So enjoy the iris only within reason; they'll be gone with the change of season.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
11:36 a.m. Today I’m thinking about fire. Also, a friend just stopped by and talked about a kind of poetry called “Blackout Poetry”. Evidently Benjamin Franklin used to do this thing where you take a written piece and black out most of the words, leaving a poem.
11:46 a.m. There’s definitely a learning curve here lol.
11:51 a.m. Got it now.
A fast-moving wildfire exploded to more than 5,000 acres overnight has destroyed 47 homes, according to county manager Joey Cason. “When they left yesterday to go to work, they had no idea that this was going to happen,” Cason said, explaining that the fire was just a small pocket around 10 a.m. “Forestry had it almost under control.” But things changed quickly. “Within 30 minutes, the winds picked up pretty significantly, and it went from being almost in control to a major wildfire,” Cason said. “Yesterday morning, we had 700 acres burned. It burned over 4,000 acres in a matter of hours as soon as the wind picked up.” Cason said the blaze moved so fast that some families were evacuated with minutes to spare.
12:03 a.m. Prayers for those in fire’s way.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
10:11 a.m. Last night I laid in my hammock looking up at the sky while the sun set. As it got dark I could see the shiny silver crescent moon, partially cloaked by clouds. It was beautiful.
For the Crescent Moon by Michelle Garren-Flye
Are you falling? I know that feeling. shedding bits of yourself and wondering, what will the end be like?
Did you see the bat wings beating the wind? Keen beacon pierces the darkness and serves as your trusted guide.
Did you hear the owl hooting his welcome? Guardian and keeper of the night, his greeting cradles you in your flight.
Are you smiling? I remember that feeling. A bit of a crack and your soul shines through like daylight.
10:35 a.m. That one was totally off-the-cuff. I truly had no idea what I was going to write when I sat down today. I like it, for what it is. A little rhyme. A little form. A lot of imagery.
12:39 p.m. This morning I heard “I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight” by Cutting Crew (remember that one?) and started thinking about one hit wonders.
It’s always been used as a sort of derogatory term. Something for someone who had great success with something but could never remake that success. But I’m thinking, what if we approach this from a different direction?
What if it’s a wonderful thing to be able to channel all your passion into one creation?
As far as we know, that’s what God did.
Make it, mold it, devote your life, this single obsession that absorbs your time fills your attention, causes great strife
you think this could ever happen again? this madness, this greatness in your prime? no, you'll reach the peak only to look down.
you're a one-hit wonder, but that's not bad you've already found the mountain you must climb and never mind everyone else's score pad.
Take it in, enjoy it, this moment in the sun declare proudly: being a one-hit wonder is not a crime because in the end, your race is already won
12:55 p.m. I thought it would be a villanelle. It wasn’t. Let’s clean it up.
One-Hit Wonder by Michelle Garren-Flye
Make it, mold it, devote your life to this single obsession that absorbs your time, fills your attention, and causes great strife.
You think this could ever happen again? This madness, this passion of your prime? No, you'll reach the peak only to look down.
You're a one-hit wonder, but that's not bad; you've already found the mountain you must climb and never mind everyone else's score pad.
Take it in, enjoy it, this moment in the sun! Creating a wonder with one hit is not a crime because in the end, your race is won.
1:08 p.m. Okay, done. I like it!
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
10:11 a.m. Anticipating a busy day here at the store, so I’m getting an early start. Might take a while, might go fast. I’m just here for the ride.
Which gives me an idea.
I'm just here for the ride. Cruising across bridges to the end of the highway. Maybe just to see where it leads and what it's like. It's not the destination, it's the journey and it might be a bumpy one. Let's just go for a drive. Not a high speed chase, it's not a race Let's stop and admire the view. This road curves, enjoy the swerves. Relax and enjoy the ride.
10:25 a.m. Took a short break to help someone who’s looking for a book.
What do you think? I don’t think it got there. Of course, I’m never sure about poems that don’t have rhymes or form. Maybe if I put this thought into a sort of format.
I'm here for the ride for crossing bridges to the end of the world and following paths through the wilderness or sailing the sea in uncharted waters Wanna go with?
10:47 a.m. As predicted, I’ve been super busy.
11:18 a.m. That might have been an understatement. Gonna call this one for today. 🙂
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
BREATHE: Michelle Garren-Flye 