Reprise: The Day it Rained Gold

I love Northern Colorado Writers. There are always so many opportunities to learn and to connect with the writing world of creative people working on their dreams. We are partners in our individual as well as corporate tasks, helping each other , cheering each other on to whatever goals we have set. We may want to become published or to finish that manuscript, or just to try new things or to re-try something that has been in a drawer or a file just waiting for the right time to bring it out again.
Well, it doesn’t come out on its own. Something sparks it, something demands you take another look.
This week I had that experience as I attended the Meet the Poets evening and then took the workshop the following evening led by Antoinette Voute Roeder. I discovered that poetry is still a voice within me that has needed to come out of hiding. It really does enhance and deepen my passion for writing. Kerry Flanagan, our director suggested I incorporate a poem a month into my blog. It would be a good way to keep in touch with that side of myself but would not remove me from my other stated writing goals. And it might just infuse some passion into my other writing.
After some review and discussion we were asked to spend a few minutes writing a poem at the end of the session. It felt awkward to me. Like putting on some old worn out shoes I hadn’t had on in a long time that had stiffened up in the previous form. So I’ll share with you what spurted out and then my rewrite. Antoinette said that poems take on a life of their own. The original idea is played with, you think of a different slant, some new words and poetry becomes fun to do. And that is what she emphasized over and over. Writing poetry needs to be fun!

First version
In Fort Collins fall 1965

It was the day the leaves rained gold, boldly dressed breezes
Blew them here and there, they scurried, collected around
Broad tree trunks, sidewalks,across yards still a bit green
From summer. Little voices sparkle through crisp air
While busy feet scoot the pieces of gold into piles
That glimmer today as they did so long ago

Second version
The day it rained gold

The day it rained gold,
leaves fluttered to the ground,
boldy dressed breezes lifted them,
hemmed the sidewalks, wound them
around solid tree trunks like scarves
and danced them across yards
still a bit green from summer.

I remember crisp air ,
busy little feet scooting
the fragile pieces of gold into piles
to glimmer today as they did so long ago.