I was given the opportunity to have an hour completely to myself. I ambled through Barnes and Noble, leisurely, for the first time in years. I couldn’t find my old familiar favorite sections of books. The covers staring at me were all different, the section titles located in spots that didn’t come intuitively to me (although, humorously, the parenting section immediately abutted the “repair manuals” section.)
I had to ask where the poetry section was. I was given the gift of an hour, I would fill my soul with as much goodness and beauty as I could, by gum.
I eventually found it, creviced in between bawdy romances and teen vampire novels.
And I made a new friend out of a poem. Because it’s still new-ish, I can’t copy and paste the entire thing here, but go take a read. Here are a couple lines to give you a sneak peek.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.