April flew by
And found her often writing, but not much. In times past she had written with habitual whole-hearted determination. But those were springtimes gone by when loss seemed impending. Then she wrote
As if a well-penned string
of convincing verse 
might somehow change her course. But now,

As foretold, 
As full as life was she 
Abandoned fear,
Awaited the future with 
A full well of ink
And feathers found on 
Abundant fields of gold,
And forgot to write. 
And furthermore she lived!

Response to http://www.napowrimo.net Day Twenty-six, prompt to write a portrait poem that plays with the meaning of the subject’s name. My response is a self-portait. This past fall my initials returned to their original, AF upon finalization of a divorce. I take a certain pride in reclaiming those initials, and the fact that I was a little feisty AF before AF was a thing.