Friday, August 23, 2013
I could, perhaps, be accused of overusing and abusing certain words. "Love" may or may not be one of those words. I'll leave that for you to decide. What I do know for certain is that Billy Collins gets it.
And I love him for it.
by Billy Collins
This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.
In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.
This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
(Read the rest here, at The Poetry Foundation.)
The round up today is at I Think in Poems.