The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Friday

by John Donne

Stay, O sweet, and do not rise;
The light that shines comes from thine eyes;
The day breaks not, it is my heart,
Because that you and I must part.
   Stay, or else my joys will die,
   And perish in their infancy.

The Thanksgiving list, not nearly as profound as it should be. I am thankful for...

My family -- my husband, my kids, my parents, my sister and her family with whom we're spending the holiday, my in-laws. And my cats.

My friends -- like vertigo66 whom I've known more than half my life, like my college friends who are still just a phone call away, like our book group in Chicago whom we can see for the first time in three years and feel like we never left, like DRush and Horta1701 and so many others whom I've met through fandom.

My house, my health, my computer, all the material things that I take for granted or gripe about too often when really I should be grateful that I've got them in the first place.

My work, which I really love and need to remember how lucky I am to get paid for.

My writing, which keeps me sane and lets me touch people and puts me in touch with people and reminds me of what matters when I'm not doing a good job articulating it in my own mind.

My country, whose imperfect past may be significant today in the holiday we're celebrating, whose current leaders and many apathetic citizens drive me insane much of the time...but I never forget how much means to me and to the world that I can make such complaints right here for everyone to read.

My planet, which I and many millions of other people need to work a lot harder to keep beautiful, clean and safe, which is capable of feeding, clothing, sheltering and providing joy for all of us if we could just learn to share it.

  • Poem for Wednesday and Great Falls Cardinals

    The Bird Her Punctual Music Brings By Emily Dickinson The Bird her punctual music brings And lays it in its place— Its place is in the Human…

  • Poem for Tuesday and Carderock

    A wounded Deer – leaps highest – By Emily Dickinson A wounded Deer – leaps highest – I've heard the Hunter tell – 'Tis but the ecstasy of death…

  • Poem for Monday and Great Falls Sunday

    The Daisy Follows Soft The Sun By Emily Dickinson The Daisy follows soft the Sun— And when his golden walk is done— Sits shyly at his feet—…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded