So you go out to your little patio with its western view of the city below to refill your hummingbird feeder with their favorite nectar, and what do you spot in the early morning clear baby-blue sky above your sleepy head but a colorful patchworked hot air balloon seemingly close enough to grasp.
Then, on your morning walk, you happen upon a beautiful young belly dancer posing dramatically for a professional photo shoot along your route on Aldama.
Later, in the Jardin (central plaza), crowded with locals and visitors alike on this jam-packed Easter weekend, you see handsome mariachis beside the Parroquia church passionately playing Mexican favorites while the joyful throng sings along.
From day to day you just never know what you’re going to see and experience here in San Miguel de Allende – known lovingly as “el corazon [the heart] of Mexico.”
Yes, it’s a cliché, I know, but I also know that clichés can be comfy, like floppy old bedroom slippers: You never know what’s around the corner — wherever you happen to live and whatever stage of life you’re in. Life’s just FULL of surprises.
I did a little digging yesterday to try to find a poem that might better express this sentiment than I am able to do right now, and I came up with a small gem by the 67-year-old, Harlem-born author and poet Nikki Grimes:
Truth
by Nikki Grimes
The truth is, every day we rise is like thunder —
a clap of surprise. Could be echoes of trouble, or blossoms
of blessing. You never know what garish or gorgeously
disguised memories-to-be might rain down from above.
So, look up! Claim that cloud with the silver lining. Our
job, if you ask me, is to follow it. See where it heads.
Since the late ‘90s, in both the United States and Canada, April has been designated National Poetry Month, in an effort to increase awareness and appreciation of poetry. In that spirit, I had an inspired idea: What if we WOWs attempt to write a short poem along these lines (ie, you never know what’s around the corner) – or find a fitting poem by someone else – and share it in the Comments section of this blog during the coming first week of April?
I am certainly NOT a poet or a poetry prof, so don’t worry — you won’t be graded. But I think it will be fun for all of us to try. Are you game? I’ll begin with this super-simple haiku:
So, look up! she said.
Claim the high, silver-lined cloud.
Rise to the surprise.
find me on facebook
I just wrote one and it’s ready to go!
Yay, Barbie! Can’t wait for you to post it so we all can read it. — xx
Hi Bonnie, thank you for this inspiring/uplifting post. what a great idea to hold our own virtual poetry jam/festival. I am drawn to the Haiku so will attempt to compose one. Happy Easter. It would be interesting to hear what traditions will be observed tomorrow. Kathy xo
Thank you, Kathy dear. Can’t wait to receive your haiku! Happy Springtime. — xx
Will be working on some poetry? Maybe!
Hope so, Kate! Try a haiku (3 lines, of 5, 7, and 5 syllables) — so much fun! — xx
Sunday
It’s like we are nothing.
We feel, we think and we sing
but only for a few years.
The rest of the time,
an infinity of eternities
we don’t exist.
In cosmic time we are next to zero,
less than a dream, practically a memory
And we don’t know what to do next Sunday.
Wow! Thank you, Carlos, for being our first poet. — Bravo!
My favorite – only kind-of related:
Mother to Son
BY LANGSTON HUGHES
Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
Oh, P., this brought tears to my eyes. I love it. I LOVE Langston Hughes. Thank you for sharing it. — xx
Easter Wings
BY GEORGE HERBERT
Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poore:
With thee
O let me rise
As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
My tender age in sorrow did beginne
And still with sicknesses and shame.
Thou didst so punish sinne,
That I became
Most thinne.
With thee
Let me combine,
And feel thy victorie:
For, if I imp my wing on thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.
This is so beautiful and uplifting, Sweetheart! Thank you, thank you for sharing it. Love you so much, Your Nonnie xoxoxoxox
Bonnie, not the most uplifting of poems/thoughts, but one that has been in my head these days, unfortunately. No need to share.
I receive a call
Too many these days
Is this my life now?
“Come say goodbye”
But I do want to share, V. dear. It’s all part of the great mosaic. — xx