The week has taken a toll. Someplace on the walls of my stomach, things are not well. But the week is ending and I will begin shedding it by reading poetry.
I have the idea that reading poetry shores up our souls. And Lord knows we need the shoring.
Reading poetry in the fall is like pushing up dirt in front of our holes in preparation for winter. It’s like stashing pine cones in trees, like making preserves, like harvesting, getting the crops in.
A few choice perceivingings in the root cellar of our heart and the larder of our souls can keep us from starving in a cold, calculating, and indifferent world. That’s what I think.