I went to lecture yesterday about poetry. I know the lecturer, a very respected and well liked retired professor of everything from Chaucer to modern poetry. He is a very good reader of poetry -- one of the best I've heard. The topic was "Does Poetry Matter?" He didn't really address the subject, he clearly believes poetry matters are great deal. He did what he does best, which is analyze a poem in a way that makes it both more accessible and more magical to the listener - that is a wonderful talent.
Of course the well of poems to draw from is almost endless so, inevitably I was introduced to a couple of poems I had not come across before -- as well as the one I feel I've known forever, Frost's "Fire and Ice". Here is the ending section of James Wright's "Two Hangovers"
In a pine tree,
A few yards away from my window sill,
A brilliant blue jay is springing up and down, up and down,
On a branch.
I laugh, as I see him abandon himself
To entire delight, for he knows as well as I do
That the branch will not break.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!