Here’s the first poetry challenge. Start with this word in all its aspects. Write about what’s in front of you and let it show up somewhere and underlie your thought. Or just start here and see where it goes. I’ll post my poem later in the day.
Ginger
And here’s my poem in draft form:
Cold sharp as ginger,
eyes tear up, the blood braces
under wool and down, the slow
chafing of skin, the burning
dry air.
Morning,
above the mountains,
a band of ginger light,
yellow lingering before blue
the hesitation of day, slow
anticipation of sun.
We have forgotten
the generosity of warmth,
how light draws us
to our better selves.
We huddle in, hoard warmth,
firewood, chocolate.
The band of light widens.
The day lengthens minute
by minute. We wait
for change,
for cold to lift,
for-so far to go-
spring.
Mattie's Pillow 
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