A Defining Moment

The United States of America has reached a defining moment. On July 4, 2026, our country attained the age of 250. The Second Continental Congress wrote the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, in Philadelphia, and established the fact that the US government was officially breaking ties with Great Britain. Our ancestors formed a new republic which included thirteen colonies. However, the Constitution of the United States was not written until 1787, and George Washington did not become president until 1789. This year on our semi-quincentennial, that is our 250^th year, the United States has a population of more than 340 million and includes 50 states. The United States of American has become a global power and hopefully will remain a force for good.

Personally, I am proud to be an American. We are a people with the high ideal that our government is for the people and by the people. However, a democracy can only continue to exist if voters are selective and put forward and elect only candidates who understand and support democracy. Candidates and elected officials should have pristine records with no hint of illegitimacy, sexual misconduct, or fraud. Be careful when you vote. Be aware of candidates’ records and their financial, moral, and legal status.

My Writing Goals for 2026

Continue to develop my poetry and connections with other poets:

BWA Poetry Circle: The BWA Poetry circle does not meet in June, July, and August.

Cannon Mine Poets Group: In June, I did not attend the session.

Columbine Poets: I missed the June 13 session but I attended an event Julie Cummings hosted on June 20. I also attended Anita Jepson-Gilbert’s informative workshop about slant rhymes on June 27, 2026. Additionally, I submitted work to the Columbine Poets’ contest. On July 4, I attended a poetry critique session on Zoom.

Colorado Poetry Center: In June, I attended a BMoCA and Lighthouse Writers Workshop in-gallery poetry workshop inspired by Tres Voces, Un Corazón, and co-sponsored by the CPC at the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art.

Continue to make progress on my draft novels: 

In June, I did not work on my novels.

Continue to develop a network of kindred spirits in the world of writing and publishing:

Document my writing progress through my blog and post it on the seventh day of each month, one blog per month in 2026:

Today is July 7, 2026. I am posting my seventh blog for the year 2026. This year, I have been focusing on a specific poetic form for each month. In June, I focused on learning about and writing sestinas, a particularly complicated and challenging poetic form which often focuses on themes of obsession, grief, meditation, and the passage of time. Learning to understand the sestina form and write a sestina of my own was a significant challenge.

The Poetry Foundation defines a sestina as “A complex French verse form, usually unrhymed, consisting of six stanzas of six lines each and a three-line envoi. The end words of the first stanza are repeated in a different order as end words in each of the subsequent five stanzas; the closing envoi contains all six words, two per line, placed in the middle and at the end of the three lines. The patterns of word repetition are as follows, with each number representing the final word of a line, and each row of numbers representing a stanza.” Interestingly, Elizabeth Bishop’s poem in this format is named Sestina, a title that depicts the form rather than the content of the poem which describes a grandmother and grandchild.

While attempting to learn to write a sestina was difficult and not for the weak of heart or mind, my first stab at writing one follows:

Sestina for the Yampa Valley

My childhood was filled with minutes, hours, and days of joy.

I had siblings and friends with whom I shared my joy.

We played together in our beautiful valley.

We shared the closeness of friendship and of warmth.

Our personalities were molded and softened by the gentle hills.

We enjoyed riding and often rode double on a horse.

We picnicked in the cool shade of trees overhanging the river.

In the wide, green valley, we watched the gentle flow of the river.

The beauty of the surrounding mountains brought us joy.

While I had several of my own, my friends wished they could have a horse.

I loved to ride my favorite horse high on the mountain and observe the valley.

Our town was surrounded by gentle, rounded, green hills.   

In the winter, snow covered the houses, but homes were filled with warmth.

Our community was close and friendly and filled with warmth.

Our city park was positioned along the edge of the river.

Our valley was surrounded by rounded, green hills.

Community members celebrated holidays with evident joy.

When I was small our town covered exactly one mile in the valley.

I became familiar with the hills and valley riding my horse.

My father taught me to love to travel on the back of my horse.

My father was a strong, loving man whose smile radiated warmth.

My father grew up in and lived until his passing in the valley.

My father always warned me in spring to be careful of the river.

In summer, I was able to wade and play in the river with joy.

In winter, I skied on snow-covered trails that passed through the hills.

During the nighttime, I often dream of riding through the hills.

In my current living room stands a bronze sculpture of my horse.   

As an adult, long gone from the valley, I remember my childhood with joy.

The hours I spent with my father taught me about human warmth.

I learned about tiny bugs and minnows swimming in the river.

Now living in the Foothills of the Rockies, I will never forget the valley.

I will always remember the beautiful hills and summer’s warmth.

My favorite memories recall my horse and riding her in the river.

My life has been blessed with the joy of growing up in a lush green valley.