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

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Latest comments

04.01 | 14:04

Thanks, Andie...that's it exactly ! So glad you experienced it!

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04.01 | 13:36

'Whatever you need
and wherever you go next -
will come to you'
My holiday experience.
Grateful!

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28.12 | 10:12

Hi Brenda,
I've just finished reading The Choice - got it from the public library. What an amazing story and an unbeatable spirit. I'll check out youtube now

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24.04 | 21:27

Hi Brenda,
I did some writing this last week.
Finally!
Here is it. :)

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