It whispers and begs and bids me come,
“I will be but a moment,” say I.
But a moment grows from one to two.
“Just a moment, a moment more,” say I.
Louder it grows as it pleads and cries,
But focused on my task am I.
Though I long to lay it aside and come,
I cannot. “Please wait, please wait,” say I.
‘Tis a fickle creature that asks me here,
And yet so devoted am I.
For when it calls, I answer and beg,
“Do not leave. Stay here, stay here,” plead I.
For once it is lost, ’twill not be regained.
Oh what a fool, what a fool, am I.
For I seized it not when it was mine.
“Come back, come back to me,” cry I.
Yet all is quiet and much too still,
For now it has left me alone.
When next it comes I will answer post-haste,
“But for now I wait, I wait,” say I.
For me, there’s nothing quite as peaceful as a quiet spot under a tree, so when I see a place like that, I have to take a shot of it. I took this shot a couple years ago at a state park and a print of it hangs over my piano. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of peace, serenity, silence. This poem was inspired by the picture and was the focus of a book of photography and poetry that I created as a present for my family. Anyway, I thought I would share it, in case you need a moment of serenity as well.
Serenity
A moment of peace
afforded to me.
A moment of stillness,
a chance to be.
To sit in the coolness
and breathe the air.
To inhale the silence,
the sun to hear.
A respite of rest
for wanderers weary
to lay aside
the loads they carry.
This sanctuary,
perfect for me.
Stillness. Peace.
Serenity.
You know that Mother Goose rhyme about the day of the week you were born? It goes something like: “Monday’s child is full of face. Tuesday’s child is full of grace. Wednesday’s child is full of woe. Thursday’s child has far to go. Friday’s child has to work for a living. Saturday’s child is happy and giving. But the child who’s born on the Sabbath day is merry and blithe and glad always.”
I was always intrigued by that poem. Especially since my dad was born on a Monday, my brother on a Tuesday, my mother on a Wednesday, and I was the Thursday’s child. That whole “far to go” thing has always intrigued me. So I did what I do when I’m intrigued. I wrote about it. And here’s what happened. I thought it was incredibly appropriate for this new year.
Journey On, Thursday’s Child
Thursday’s child has far to go,
(At least that’s what they say.)
And I wonder what that means.
Far to go.
Far to go in what way? (more…)
