Some are Wise
Day 294
Tho’ I get home how late — how late by Emily Dickinson
Tho’ I get home how late — how late —
So I get home – ’twill compensate —
Better will be the Ecstasy
That they have done expecting me —
When Night — descending — dumb — and dark —
They hear my unexpected knock —
Transporting must the moment be —
Brewed from decades of Agony!
So I get home – ’twill compensate —
Better will be the Ecstasy
That they have done expecting me —
When Night — descending — dumb — and dark —
They hear my unexpected knock —
Transporting must the moment be —
Brewed from decades of Agony!
To think just how the fire will burn —
Just how long-cheated eyes will turn —
To wonder what myself will say,
And what itself, will say to me —
Beguiles the Centuries of way!
•••
I drove miles, and miles, and miles yesterday. From the moment I left home for the library, to the 40 minutes I spent at lunch going to the bank and running errands, to the 120 miles I drove to and from District Band Festival (in Mattawan, MI by way of a Kalamazoo side trip) in order to surprise my wonderful son with my wonderful presence, to the 100 miles I drove to and from the far side of Elkhart, IN, I drove more miles than is pleasant. On the way home I stopped by my old standby, Shipshewana, for a quick shot and I finally pulled into my driveway at 1:00 am.
Is it any wonder that I am wiped out today? And guess what? I drove an hour each way from Kalamazoo and back AGAIN today. You know, some are wise and some are otherwise….
