May Play began with a chance conversation with the owner of a candy shop.

Light pours through the west end and floods the wooden floors of our home. James is in the front room, dancing. His clunky, horse-like heels stomp to a syncopated rhythm, following the dizzy-eyed direction of his four-year-old vision, rather than my music.

Sometimes we start poetry with a history of strains and tight muscles. For many of us, this month's May Play felt like therapy, a chance to purge ourselves of some lactic acid and develop more elasticity.

Leah wasn't quite ready to play. Sharing her poetry still felt like a risk. A few months ago she discovered Every Day Poems and began clicking around. She spent $2.99 on our poetry daily subscription. She found intriguing writing prompts and colorful features. Most importantly, she encountered conversations.

The elementary school and playground which captivated my attention as a child was torn down many years ago. A bench surrounded by flowers is all that remains.

We'll read your tweets and feature some plates of your weekly play each week. There's nothing sweeter than sharing.

Lately, I’ve been writing hard, more professionally than years past, which means also a bit more mechanically. Some words are needed, so I crank them out. GoodWordEditing is one of my few places where I can still play. Play is so important. I’ve thought of posts I could write this week: about the 22-30 rule [...]