The charcoal grey sky provides the perfect backdrop for the vibrant colours on display. If you step outside, you might catch the faint smell of wood-smoke hanging in the air.
We hold on to our jackets tightly, with our hands planted deep inside our pockets. The atmosphere is filled with nostalgia, and evening comes more swiftly than expected.
“Even if something is left undone,
everyone must take time to sit still
and watch the leaves turn.”
In recognition of April being National Poetry Month, since 1996.
Over the last few months, I’ve been setting aside time to read a few lines of poetry every day. Its difficult to explain, but somehow it lessens the weight of the burdens I carry. The noise around me turns to stillness, and my soul is renewed in those quiet moments.
Though I am reluctant to confess, I will admit there was a time when I thought poetry was very dull. Attempting to understand the meaning behind the riddles seemed difficult and tedious. They contained rhymes, but I could see no reason – and this left me with little enjoyment.
Foolishly, I concluded romantic verse had no place in the life of a realist. It was no small task for me to learn I was completely mistaken. For those of you who find poetry a little lackluster, consider this a modest attempt to persuade you otherwise.
A little over two weeks ago, I was sitting across the table from one of my dearest friends. It had been ages since I’d seen him last. For half an hour, we talked about anything and everything. Catching up on details. After a while it struck me, something rare had happened.
Never once did my friend’s attention stray from our conversation. There were no interruptions. He made his usual jokes, and then sat and listened patiently to really hear how I was doing.
It’s hard to describe the immense comfort of realizing, in that moment, there was no one else he would rather be talking to. Nothing in the world can make you feel so important.
Isn’t this how every conversation between friends should be?
“Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat or a watch to take out of it, and, with burning curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit hole under the hedge.
In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.”
They say curiosity may have killed the cat, but we mustn’t let that stop us. If Alice had been more cautious, she would have never found Wonderland. As a matter of fact, I would venture to say it is a necessary aspect of every worthwhile adventure. All great discoveries begin with a tremendous sense of curiosity.