Does anyone else still use Twitter in the era of Musk? I often head there to check in with authors, artists and other content creators who entered the platform many moons ago and still find it to be somewhere they can connect with their audience.
It’s somewhere that I can completely relax and not worry about sharing content from my own business – although I sometimes remember to do that too!
During the month of May, I found myself repeating quite a bit of the content that other folk were sharing in my conversations – confirmation bias, anyone?
It prompted me to write a wee poem of sorts – a marker of the month of May 2023.
They say it’s a bumper dandelion year
They say the hawthorn is just like snow
They say time will tell if the berries come
They say there’s a dearth of insects
They say the blue tits are feeding their chicks suet balls
They say it’s a Silent Spring
They say yellow rattle is a winner
They say it’s a good year for the orchids
They say the churchyard is carpeted in speedwell
They say pesticides are still evil
They say artificial grass makes for shit lawns
They say we should let our gardens grow wild
They say the bees need water stations
They say it’s time to restore the meadows
They say we let the roadside verges alone
They say even Everest Base Camp IV is a litter bin
They say there’s too much shit in the rivers
They say mountain water reserves are low
They say roadside orchids in SE France are having quite the moment
They say they’ve never seen as many bog cotton tufts
They say the garden is its prettiest this time of year.
It’s not brilliant poetry, but it’s a technique that’s useful for creative journaling, especially if you’re tired of listening to your own thoughts or stream-of-consciousness.
Of course, I edited out loads of themes that I’m happy to see in my feed but didn’t want to include in my poem. Right now #naturetwitter is the winner for me!
And it’s a theme that isn’t restricted to Twitter: over at my Patreon, we’ve been creating love letters to the seasons and here’s an extract from mine for Spring.
Truth be told, in the ways of old, I usually count May as the beginning of Summer. As we reach the Solstice, I’m seeing a change in environmental conditions this summer that is even more concerning than usual.
I’m tempted to make a practice of this Twitter poetry as a record of my year as seen through the lenses of others. I wonder how the story might evolve through each of the seasons.
How are you marking your year so far? What creative projects are keeping you connected? Let me know in the comments below – or drop me an email – I love to hear from you!