That beast called writer’s block…

Now I know why David didn’t write at all while he was studying abroad! There’s so much to see and do, it’s barely all I can keep up with blogging updates on the trip.

In theory, I’d like to write about today…but I don’t think I could do it justice. I’m feeling sort of poem-ish lately (not poetic, exactly, but something). So here’s something, a little poem by Marvin Bell.

Around Us

We need some pines to assuage the darkness
when it blankets the mind,
we need a silvery stream that banks as smoothly
as a plane's wing, and a worn bed of 
needles to pad the rumble that fills the mind,
and a blur or two of a wild thing
that sees and is not seen. We need these things
between appointments, after work,
and, if we keep them, then someone someday,
lying down after a walk
and supper, with the fire hole wet down,
the whole night sky set at a particular
time, without numbers or hours, will cause
a little sound of thanks--a zipper or a snap--
to close round the moment and the thought
of whatever good we did.
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