The light was beautiful today. The way it fell through the trees on a morning walk, the way the leaves twirled in their meandering descents. I felt like I was in a movie. I tried to catch them and he laughed as they eluded my outstretched arms. He snagged one and I said, baby you crushed it. He said he liked my klutziness--how it's that my mind is preoccupied with other thoughts and my body doesn't always catch up. Poetry isn't always coordinated. That's how it was on Saturday at the reading at Clayton and Company books. Sometimes the poetry is someone else's world, one that twirls and stumbles and escapes you. Sometimes you catch it, but mostly I think the beauty is in watching the leaves come down--the magic in the way they turn and let go. Sometimes I think we should be more like those leaves and welcome the season to fall. Perhaps autumn should be the season for lovers...
Annie sent me a magnet with a Wallace Stevens quote: It's not everyday that the world arranges itself into a poem. Today I was lucky.
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1 comment:
nice writing.
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