You may have wondered why my last 2 columns looked very much the same. It’s because they were. The first time, inadvertently, the last two verses and a line of the poem were not included. I asked …
You may have wondered why my last 2 columns looked very much the same. It’s because they were. The first time, inadvertently, the last two verses and a line of the poem were not included. I asked if the Kalona News would kindly rerun the entire poem. And they did.
One phrase of the poem has been ringing in my head. “The stuff of our existence…”.
That old alarm rang out again,
So I could rise and shine.
I turn it off and then got up.
Another day was mine.
It still was dark and cold; and I,
Couldn’t think why I had set,
That old alarm for 5 AM;
I almost knew regret.
But then it all came back to me;
The order became clear,
Put clothes in washer right away-
We need clean clothes to wear.
Bake oatmeal in the oven,
So everyone can eat,
Then mix up cookies, bake them next,
A common lunchtime treat.
Then walk for 30 minutes,
To get some exercise,
And sweep the cobwebs from the brain,
Think noble thoughts, and wise.
By 8 o’clock, the day was old,
Yet, it had barely started.
I wasn’t sure what lay ahead;
A lot of things, uncharted-
Would cross my path, and make me smile,
Or make me cry, instead,
Or make me laugh hilariously,
Or make me bow my head.
Things like car doors frozen shut,
Or frozen open, too!
It’s fun to drive and hold the door
So cold air won’t get you.
Things like plastic bags that hang
In groceries’ produce aisles,
That do not open, thought I try
To figure out their guiles.
Things like onions, which I found,
All hidden in the trunk,
I figured they’d been there awhile-
Their smell could make you drunk.
Things like phone calls with the news-
The death of someone dear,
And suddenly what really counts
And what does not, is clear.
Things like words, said without thought,
That ring in all our ears,
They really can’t be taken back,
They echo through the years.
Things like kind deeds, done by those
Whose mission is to make
The other guy the happy guy-
Their own joy is at stake…
I met a man the other week,
Who gets up every day,
And reads about the folks who died.
He said it is his way -
Of saying, “Life’s too short to hold
A grudge of any kind.”
This thought goes with me and it stays,
Just lurking in my mind.
So when I think of what entails
The “stuff of our existence”,
I know that attitude is key
No matter what life gives us.
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