Sorry for the fuzzy foto folks.
Outside there was intermittent rain and temperatures more suited to March than May. Inside about 40 people mulled around eating bits of paté and cheese and sipping wine waiting for the evening to start.
It was an open night reading sponsored by the Leman Poetry workshop made up of writing friends from the Geneva Writers Group which I credit for the inspiration of much of my writing life.
My daughter and I listened to everything from the funny 10 Minutes which showed how taking 10 minutes to do too many things left 10 minutes to sleep with the poet mimicking falling asleep at the mike, to the very sad putting a dog down that left both Llara and I searching for a tissue.
In between readings the mistress of ceremonies gave definitions of poetry by famous poets such as Dickinson, Frost, Sandburg and more.
"Aren't you reading?" several people asked me. I've never considered myself a poet, at best a po. The few poems I've written have appeared in some unknown publications. "I don't really consider myself a poet," I told one woman who I've known for over 20 years and is an excellent poet. "When I write a poem, it's by accident."
"Isn't it always like that?" she asked.