I deeply and with all my essence believe this…………
Why, it might be asked, does literature have to have a business at all? Is it not sufficient that it give pleasure, convey information, widen experience, provide flashes of insight? One reads the world’s finest novels, plays, poems, and in time one becomes a more cultivated person, which means somehow more refined, subtler, deeper, possibly even—though this might be pushing it—better. You are what you read; and culture, like heredity and cheap paint, rubs off.
~ Joseph Epstein, A Literary Education and Other Essays. Axios Press.
Notes: Image Source – Distant Passion
death took a genius
much too soon-
the good really do die young
The warmth of the light
emanating from my half-open front door
Rivalled last night’s supermoon.
One light was family, home, comfort~
The other mystical.
I wished a wish on the round full moon
lightly misted with a wisp of clouds
The wish was the same one I have wished before
One that perhaps has already been granted~
I need to cherish it.
Note: August 9th was my mom’s birthday–she would have been 89 this year. I thought of her as I made my wish. I made the only wish that is worth making–that my family and friends be happy.
There is a Folk Festival in my hometown this weekend at our lovely park. I live a mere block away and this is what the opening night sounded like to me:
Music gently wafts through the night air
sound cracks through the darkness
Drumming into my brain
Castles in the sand ~
Imagination took flight
in our sandbox
“Go out and play,”
Was my mother’s favourite refrain in the summer
So dutifully (as if I had a choice)
I would place a book under my shirt and in the waist of my shorts
And skulk out of the house, away from the big brown chair
I had adopted as my own and
climb my favourite tree
Then nestle into the crook of three thick branches
where the bark was smooth and welcoming~
I would while away the summer days
Shaded by the leaves; hidden in my lair
And go on adventures without setting foot on the ground.
Hopping on my steed
I would wheel out of the driveway
And up the road
To destinations not unknown:
the creek, the corner store, a friend’s house ~
Warm summer breezes teasing my long hair
Into tangles that no comb could unravel
My arms and legs tanned where shorts and top ended.
I would ride by fields of corn and wheat
And feeling a little silly, talk to cows as they munched in the meadows
Their big brown eyes somehow understanding.
Sometimes I would have to pump and strain with wild delight
Chased by big dogs which had no chance of catching of me
As my fear made me strong, fast, invincible
I long for the days when freedom was as easy
As riding my red bike.