I’ve been rereading a collection of writings by Katherine Paterson called “A Sense of Wonder” and ruminating on what it takes to maintain a daily sense of wonder about life. Today was most decidedly NOT a day of wonder. From the time I awoke until this very minute, I’ve felt rushed and pushed and pulled on and tugged on and tired. And sick. I wanted to find the wonder. I searched. And I’m sure the wonder was there, but the eyes of my heart could not see it.
For now, here’s today’s poem. Tomorrow will be better, right?
Nothing grows inside my brain.
I think it’s full of weeds.
If I could get a hoe in there,
I’d plant some thinking seeds.