April is Autism Awareness Month. It's also National Poetry Month.
This could be random coincidence. But the coincidence is nicely poetic, because as literal as my son on the autism spectrum tends to be — working to understand symbols or inference — his heightened sense of awareness of the world around him reveals the stuff of poets and artists. Stuff other people might filter out as unimportant.
Take patterns, for example. I may not notice patterns, but my son does. Everywhere. It seems to me like their predictability reassures him, and that he would like life to follow patterns so he isn't surprised by what's coming; he'll know how to react. When he doesn't find this repetition, he creates it. He wants to wear the same kind of pants. Eat the same food. Watch the same movies.