If you were expecting me earlier ... sorry ... my computer seems to have taken on some of my early morning characteristics ... bleary-eyed ... lost in a fog ... but, thank goodness, it doesn't go around bumping into furniture.
I don't know why it bothers me when this happens. I'm not on a strict schedule ... except my own self-imposed order of things ... I could just as easily make a posting in the evening ... except that would bump up against my nap time.
Oh, well ... I try to look at my computer's balkiness as an opportunity to do other things (hah!) ... for example, while I was waiting for it to decide what it wanted to do next, I tackled some of the stacks in the study.
Not literally. Tackling those monsters could have serious consequences.
I approached them cautiously, sorted out a few things ... and now I have fewer stacks to go through ... and through ... and through.
But, as Professor Squigglee (remember him?) would say, I digress. What I really came here to talk about was today's poem ...
Spring! It was a time of celebration, a time of emerging, at last, from the cold of winter into the beginnings of warmth, a time when kites were tugging at their strings, pleading for more ... when jackets were left lying on the school grounds ... when we gave in to the call of the hills in which we were growing up ... and went galloping down them.
And gallop we did ... a few "no brakes" strides and a leap ... strides ... leap ... strides ... all the way to the bottom sometimes.
Other times we'd fall to the softening turf well before reaching bottom, and lie there, laughing at the picture we must have made, long legs carrying us careening down the slope, with little hope of reaching the bottom still standing.
It was as if we could ... if we tried hard enough ... defy gravity, that if we gained enough speed we might fly. The descent felt like flying. The air seemed to be trying to lift us.And those leaps! They were almost like flying.
Even as we lay there, laughing, our run completed, finally rolling over to look at the clouds, we still felt we might somehow break free of gravity ... next time ...
We had been so close to doing it this time!
In selecting the poem's title, "Escaping Gravity," I wanted it to serve double duty ... to say something about running down the hill, yes ... but also about the need to take our minds off the seriousness of life, even if only briefly.
We all need to do that sometimes.
The poem:
ESCAPING GRAVITY
How we challenged gravity's pull then,
our lanky legs held captive so long
by the dull gray of winter months, but now
freed, carrying us in ever lengthening
leaps until we finally fell, exhausted,
on the wet, green softness of earth,
laughing, pained with the joy of what
we had done, resting, trying again,
each new leap seeming to take us
ever so near that unreachable dream.
© 1998
(Originally published in Capper's)
Today's word: unreachable
1 comment:
Wonderful picture you made in words! Wonderful picture you took, too!
I know the feeling of your poem. Everyone where we lived in the Basque area of Spain...everyone including my daughter and me, carried them. We lived in the foothills of the mountains, and had some very big rolling hills. She and I would open our unbrellas and leap down just as in your poem. We'd pretend we were Mary Poppins and take giant leaps into the air all the way down. I will show her your poem. She now has four wonderful kids. She'll love "Escaping Gravity." So do I.
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