July 2017
While my three children were young, I wrote just enough poetry to give me an inkling that I might have an aptitude for it, but I wasn’t brave enough to throw my earning potential aside until my family was grown and I’d worked for a number of years. As time went on, I came to regret not having devoted myself to writing much earlier in life. The “now or never” decision came about 20 years ago—my late-in-life career—and the process of creating a poem still gives me enormous satisfaction. I’m gratified that my poetry is widely published in the small press and equally gratified by becoming part of a larger community of writers. For my publishing credits:
lindamfischer.com
lindamfischer.com
An earlier day in our lives: my father in his hat, my mother, and me.
Memoir, 1945
It was a matter of hats,
when men wore
them—my father
in uniform, home
from six months’
basic training, and I
too young to remember
more than my sister
crying her eyes out—
until he changed hats.
Then it was all
smiles and sunshine,
the end of the war.
first published in Bellowing Ark
© 2017 Linda M. Fischer
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