Some Days, It's Hard...
Monday April 7, 2008
Like today... it's hard to sit inside and work, when the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and I can see the trees weave their meandering dance--back and forth in the light, spring breeze.
There is some small consolation though. If I have to sit inside, at least I can get a poem in my head to offer some small literary interlude to the day. Here's An April Day, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
"When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.
"I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms."
Where does this day find you? Inside or out? Studying, working, playing, reading, writing... being?
There is some small consolation though. If I have to sit inside, at least I can get a poem in my head to offer some small literary interlude to the day. Here's An April Day, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
"When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.
"I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms."
Where does this day find you? Inside or out? Studying, working, playing, reading, writing... being?
Comments
This day finds me inside as well, frustrated beyond measure about where my life is going. Maybe it’s just a mid-life crisis or something. Or is that just for men?
I feel I am in a perpetual state of confusion about where my life is going. I am glad that I am not the only one. My life seems to be going nowhere. What does it all mean? Maybe all I need to try to do is to fill that God-shaped hole inside my soul. I don’t know how to do that either, but I can try.