I was looking through my book shelves for a certain book this morning, not a quick or easy task, since as you may have guessed, I have a great number of book shelves lining the walls of my rooms. I pulled out this poem of Ruth Stone's from In the Next Galaxy. It seems a happy way to begin the day.
Napping on the Greyhound
- Ruth Stone
It's Christmas Eve in Texas.
Your bored self is outside the bus
running barefoot on the red shale.
The bus wheezes with the slushy road.
Sage and collapsed yucca, snow snagged
on the barbed-wire fences;
you close one eye.
Outside leaping over boulders,
your bored self stares in at itself sleeping.
The big-headed yucca, helpless as fresh born,
are uncovered in the blizzard.
They are quiet as baby birds.
"Inscrutable inhabitants," say shy visitors
from Planet Zizz. "Very tasteful antennae."
May your day bring you the temperatures you need and may you meet all you see as though you were from Planet Zizz.