This year: to keep hold of the important things, stopping to restack the load as often as necessary.
by Robert Frost
For every parcel I stoop down to seize
I lose some other off my arms and knees,
And the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns,
Extremes too hard to comprehend at once
Yet nothing I should care to leave behind.
With all I have to hold with—hand and mind
And heart, if need be, I will do my best.
To keep their building balanced at my breast.
I crouch down to prevent them as they fall;
Then sit down in the middle of them all.
I had to drop the armful in the road
And try to stack them in a better load.
Poetry Friday: The Huck Edition
Rose’s First Holy Communion
A Tiger in Algebra?
Words Fail Me
“…rejoicing, since all ingredients are here”