"I think I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree." ~Joyce Kilmer
I'm not exactly sure why I sat down right now to write and this quote popped up in my brain. It's funny because until now (I just looked it up), I had never read it in its entirety. I'd never been interested in reading it. It seemed somehow vapid. Hm. Interesting.
I've been reading like crazy. I'm taking this great short story class, as well as an advanced creative writing one, and I'm inundated with readings. If it sounds as though I'm complaining, I'm not. Honestly. I just can't think straight with so many words and characters wandering around in my head. Little boys on mad rocking-horse rides, scantily dressed girls walking around the A&P barefooted, and let's not forget the forgetful swimmer making his way around the bend of the Lucinda River; they're all in there. They're swimming, they're rocking, they're teasing, they're coming of age, they're doing all sorts of stuff in there and they won't let up. Let me let you in on a secret...I love them all, even the ones I hate. That Dave who won't just grow up and be a man, he drives me crazy but he's there too. He's on a train somewhere with his unloaded gun and his dim wittedness.
I just let them be. I let them meander, I let them roam, I let them run and prance and just be. I let them be. They'll all find a place in there and rest. They'll be tired soon and they'll lie down somewhere near a stream for a nap, or maybe under the stars on a plantation somewhere balmy.
They'll be there when I call.
