This has been a long hard week. My 9-month-old lab puppy ate a dishtowel. So far, it has cost $4600 dollars to get the $1.29 dishtowel out of the dog's stomach. And the vet thinks I am a bad dog mother because I'm having a hard time working full time and parenting full time and putting compresses on the dog's incision four times a day and giving five kinds of medicine twice a day. And we have spent two weeks giving the state tests to our kids. And I have watched kids who only get to go to the zoo, which is about a mile from our school, a couple of times a year when we take them, struggle valiantly to understand passages about deep sea fishing and tap dancing lessons. And teachers who care enough to buy kids' clothes and give up Saturdays to take kids on outings weep because they are not good enough teachers to help kids understand passages about deep sea fishing and tap dance lessons. And I'm in charge of passing out the tests, and counting, and cleaning up, and bubbling. And every time I look at the books I feel like I am violating my soul.
Weeks like this, I need poetry.
Like Sarah Lewis Holmes' breathtaking "Annus Mirabilis."
Or Michael Blumenthal's "What I Believe," that MaryLee posted this morning.
And Kay Ryan's "Bad Day."
To remind me that tomorrow is another day. And there will be new dreams. And hopes. And miracles.
Not every day
is a good day
for the elfin tailor.
the stolen cloth
reveals what it
was made for:
a handsome weskit
or the jerkin
of an elfin sailor.
Read the rest of the poem here.
POETRY FRIDAY is at THE MISS RUMPHIUS EFFECT.