My husband and I spent all weekend either at bookstores or reading. He was excited because he bought some new book on Photoshop or something like that and I was excited because at Half Price Books I found a book of poetry by Billy Collins, Picnic, Lightning. Yay.
This collection has some beautiful poems on journaling, jazz and even Victoria’s Secret. You have to check this out. Here, I’ll post one poem I’m enjoying a lot right now. I am not a morning person but I like this. Oh and I just saw that he has a new collection, Ballistics, coming out this September. I have to mark my calendar.
Why do we bother with the rest of the day,
the swale of the afternoon,
the sudden dip into evening,
then night with his notorious perfumes,
his many-pointed stars?
This is the best —
throwing off the light covers,
feet on the cold floor,
and buzzing around the house on espresso —
maybe a splash of water on the face,
a palmful of vitamins —
but mostly buzzing around the house on espresso,
dictionary and atlas open on the rug,
the typewriter waiting for the key of the head,
a cello on the radio,
and, if necessary, the windows —
trees fifty, a hundred years old
heavy clouds on the way
and the lawn steaming like a horse
in the early morning.
~Morning by Billy Collins