I spent today catching up. Most of it was digital. It is interesting how much email built up, but I was productive today. This poem by Charles Simic spoke to me. Children wonder and hold the world in awe. Adults lose track of the beauty of mystery. I am not sure what next week holds. Perhaps, I will write poetry. Although I relied on the words of others, noted that many of these poets were new to me and that was transformative. I spent time wisely.
Go inside a stone
That would be my way.
Let somebody else become a dove
Or gnash with a tiger’s tooth.
I am happy to be a stone.
From the outside the stone is a riddle:
No one knows how to answer it.
Yet within, it must be cool and quiet
Even though a cow steps on it full weight,
Even though a child throws it in a river;
The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed
To the river bottom
Where the fishes come to knock on it
I have seen sparks fly out
When two stones are rubbed,
So perhaps it is not dark inside after all;
Perhaps there is a moon shining
From somewhere, as though behind a hill—
Just enough light to make out
The strange writings, the star-charts
On the inner walls.