Poetry Friday is hosted by Buffy Silverman @ Buffy’s Blog
I feel the quiet of summer days at last, when days stretch out as invitations to slow down, enjoy the wayward and unexpected thought, and move at a pace far removed from the tightly regulated if-it’s-eight-you-must-be-doing-this, of the school year. And, when one slows down to notice…one slows down to think. I am enjoying those wayward and unexpected thoughts.
by Eleanor Lerman
This is what life does. It lets you walk up to
the store to buy breakfast and the paper, on a
stiff knee. It lets you choose the way you have
your eggs, your coffee. Then it sits a fisherman
down beside you at the counter who says, Last night,
the channel was full of starfish. And you wonder,
is this a message, finally, or just another day?
Life lets you take the dog for a walk down to the
pond, where whole generations of biological
processes are boiling beneath the mud. Reeds
speak to you of the natural world: they whisper,
they sing. And herons pass by. Are you old
enough to appreciate the moment? Too old?
There is movement beneath the water, but it
may be nothing. There may be nothing going on.
And then life suggests that you remember the
years you ran around, the years you developed
a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,
owned a chilly heart. Upon reflection, you are
genuinely surprised to find how quiet you have
become. And then life lets you go home to think
about all this. Which you do, for quite a long time.
(You can read the rest here.)