Tuesday, January 12, 2016
That I may learn from vaulted skies
Back in Oxford.
It's "noughth" week. Which I don't really know
if I'm spelling it right
and I sure know that I would
pronounce it incorrectly.
I'm trying to get some work done--
essays revised, books read,
before the true beginning of term.
And I realized yesterday
that getting back from holiday
even if you are returning to Hogwarts
still means that it's the end of holiday.
But I also know
that we paint the past
in poignant hues of nostalgia,
the future in neon expectation,
but we save our favorite hues
of rainy grey for the present.
So today, while I crafted an essay
and inwardly groaned at the amount
of reading I will have to do this term,
and petitioned heaven for a twenty-fifth hour
(or at least for time to stand still),
I decided to be grateful for present moments
that have already become memory.
Grateful for friends who lend me umbrellas
and grace me with conversation.
Grateful for vaulted roofs
and stone walls.
And grateful for the rainwater
which slowly seeped
through my well-worn boots
as I made my way