A Good Day

Had a nice sleep in, by the time I got up Helena was busily cleaning the house for the arrival of our guest. Mostly I didn’t do much in the morning except I took out the garbage, a mass of garbage, stuff we’ve needed to throw away for years, and went down to the store, and finished a poem which wound up being as far from the original concept as anything I’ve ever written. The original idea was ‘everything is metaphor’ and I envisioned that as the last line, everything else in the poem working up to it, but in the end it does not appear in the poem at all, not the phrase, not the concept, it’s just a nice, little nature poem about a rock thrown into a still lake and how it destroys the reflection but then everything snaps back to normal again and I guess the metaphor of the poem, or the allegory, is that any stable situation is just waiting for a rock, all complacency is false complacency.
Also, I’d envisioned it as a long poem and it wound up as a sonnet. That’s not a problem.
Then we went to the airport. Now, I do not travel so often that I have become completely jaded to the airport experience. Airports, to me, are still magical places, filled with people who are flying off to, or arriving from, exotic destinations, who are experiencing some major life change. The kid we were waiting for is a 17 year old Frenchman who will be with us for a week, as same stayed with his family in Bourdeaux last year.
He seems like a good kid, although he was fairly unimpressed with my French. Never said as much, but kept reverting to English. Not too surprising, really. My French is not that fluent.


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