This morning has been poetry. Dr. Vincent lost his lecture notes on Hemingway and instead we spent the hour discussing Emily Dickinson. My heart was like a sponge, soaking up the nuggets of gold we dug out of Dickinson's poems until I felt too full to hold anymore.
"Faith" is a fine invention
When Gentlemen can see --
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency.
That's the way Dr. Vincent described Emily Dickinson's poems, each one a microscope observing incidences of life like slides. Glimpses into minute details of a world otherwise missed.
But the poetry didn't stop there. I drank hot coffee that cooled as I sat in class and afterward walked down the sidewalk lined with bright yellow and red trees, dropping vibrant leaves onto the ground. Then snowflakes, small and sparse, fell from wintry gray skies. I situated my purple scarf I most likely knitted last autumn while watching a football game, and thought how full and contented I felt. It made me want to write my own "microscopes" to try to detail the beauty of this season of my life.
"'I suppose that's how it looks in prose. But it's very different if you look at it through poetry...and I think it's nicer...to look at it through poetry.'" Anne Shirley, Anne of Avonlea
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I'm so proud!
ReplyDelete*wipes away tear*
Did it really start to snow? Too perfect.
ReplyDeleteI definitely like this layout better. It suits you.
It's funny that Christy should write about a tear coming to her eyes, 'cause I honestly thought my eyes were going to tear up when I read your post. I don't know why. Maybe it's leftover tears from the awful day I had on November 11. There, that's better.
P.S. I don't like that they made me create a google account just to post a comment.