I cannot pretend that extensive rains are some novel experience for me, as the wetlands of south Arkansas feature years in which flooding is not at all uncommon. I am very used to the mosquito, with whom I spent many childhood hours. I will spare this journal the stories of slap and scratch, but suffice it to say that I am well acquainted with all forms of insect fauna and a few forms of skin-irritating flora. Yet one thing I love about my prairie-adjacent home is that in return for giving up the joys of dense woodland, one rarely encounters the water mocassin or the mosquito. They exist here, of course, in any year, but one is much more like to encounter a non-poisonous prairie snake or the call of a charming cicada.
Mark me down as "opposed to north Texas turning into a rain forest".
This weekend I am going to begin writing poetry. I do not know where it will lead me, or how many poems I will create that I am willing to submit for publication. But I think it's time to write poetry again.