A Poem for the Second of December
Purchasing welcome the things we do every day (I prefer a shoe that zips or slips) and the thousand life- -or-death decisions that must be made before supper tend to blunt and deaden the sharper pains of living. A look backwards (a week was plenty, according to the ancients) affords a better way to look forward. It isn’t that the jabs must be catalogued like hotel guests as they pass, but if you would know why sleeping on your side (or back, or stomach) seems necessary, count how many times you have smiled or held a door for another person. Who, when fully grown, did not want to be the one (not like Helen, solely because of her beauty) capable of launching a decent holiday dinner?