Poetry Friday: I'm hosting! (No overthinking allowed.)

I was thinking, overthinking, and waffling about what to post. Then, as I grew tired of waffling, overthinking — and, let's face it, just plain thinking — Atticus suggested that I post "Autumn in New York." One really can't go wrong with Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, can one? No, one cannot. 

Ramona had thoughts too. She suggested the nothing-but-poetic scene from You've Got Mail in which Joe Fox expresses the perfect fall thought.

So, dear reader, if you too do not want to overthink anything but would simply like to bask in the beauty of Ella and Louis, and the joys of a screenplay by Nora Ephron, join me:  

  

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Mr. Linky is helping me round up this week's Poetry Friday posts, 

in his always-helpful, linky way. 

Thanks for joining us! 

Poetry Friday: "I wanted to be surprised."

Of course, we should be careful about what we want. Reality is always surprising. 

I've been away from the blog for a while. Life has taken many surprising turns in the last few months and I'm sad to have to share that my father passed away. We'd seen such decline in the last year as he battled a rare, aggressive form of cancer that spread to his bones. When he opted for hospice care, we got him moved into a beautiful place and he died two days later. I was surprised by that, but also by hummingbirds and by an Oscar Wilde quote that played a part in Dad's last days. In addition to grieving the loss of a man who spent 89 years on this planet, we've been handling the many details that need to be handled, and now I'm working on moving my mom — who still lives two hours away from us and had to go into Memory Care — to our town, which will make everyone's life better and days happier. I have so much to say and to write about caring for one's parents, but today is not the day for that. Today, I just want to share some wisdom and loveliness from Jane Hirshfield, who is always a balm to my soul. 

I wanted to be surprised.
by Jane Hirshfield

To such a request, the world is obliging.

In just the past week, a rotund porcupine,
who seemed equally startled by me.

The man who swallowed a tiny microphone
to record the sounds of his body,
not considering beforehand how he might remove it.

A cabbage and mustard sandwich on marbled bread.

How easily the large spiders were caught with a clear plastic cup
surprised even them.

I don’t know why I was surprised every time love started or ended.
Or why each time a new fossil, Earth-like planet, or war.
Or that no one kept being there when the doorknob had clearly.

What should not have been so surprising:

my error after error, recognized when appearing on the faces of others.

What did not surprise enough:
my daily expectation that anything would continue,
and then that so much did continue, when so much did not.

....

(Read the rest here, at Poets.org.) 

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The round-up this week is being hosted by Buffy Silverman. 

Photo thanks to BarbeeAnne at Pixabay.