Little Blogs 2

Each day until I can no longer read

Four days ago I suddenly had a thought as I looked at my shelves of poetry books: from this day until I can no longer read I intend to read at least ONE POEM per day. Or night...I have started with Mary Oliver's collection called Thirst, the one following the death of her partner of over forty years. Hard to keep to one poem...and mostly don't...but how can lines like these be anything but an invitation to read one more?

My work is loving the world...

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?

Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me

keep my mind on what matters,

which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished...

Besides means I go to sleep with a smile of peaceful forest scenes...

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Latest comments

28.11 | 07:46

Now into a second reading of INK and HONEY, I am finding it much richer and it's pulling me ever deeper into contemplation of my daily life.

28.11 | 07:35

Perusing your musings about these books are a great help for me so I can choose my next book.. one that resonates at this time in my life. Thanks Brenda.

22.11 | 20:53

Welcomed reading recommendations !

24.10 | 21:40

and you have gifted me with cards that were like visits!!

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