(The thought makes me weak in the knees)
In Bellevue near Puget the Sound
Writers descended like fleas.
Three days of workshops and meetings
Publishers, agents, authors, all
A network for those who did it
And for dreamers nearly as tall.
After the thrill is over
After the critique is cold
After the books are boxed
When the last tale is told
I take time to chew on a cookie
Time to reflect on the lot
Of info coming in torrents
Hints of "do" or "do not."
My notes are pregnant with wisdom
Carry-all stuffed with dead trees
Gray matter glutted with brilliant
Ideas from published gurus.
My feet are easily rested
My eyes cooled with cucumber piece
My throat soothed with mint everlasting
But my buns will be numb all next week!
Published in Newsletter of
Pacific Northwest Writers Conference
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