Days

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Daughters of Time, the hypocritic days,
Muffled and dumb, like barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an endless file,
Bring diadems and faggots in their hands.
To each they offer gifts after his will,
Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all.
I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp,
Forgot my morning wishes, hastily
Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day
Turned and departed silent. I, too late,
Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.

* * *

Oh, if only each of us would actually use the time that is given us! We forget our "morning dreams" and just grab something from our day, but not always the thing we woke up thinking we could gain. But when the day stands before us offering so much, we're foolish not to take at least some of the treasures it offers. If not kingdoms, maybe something greater: salvation. So often we wake up thinking of how good we'll be on a new day, and by noon we're already so caught up in life we don't bother to take the blessings and opportunities for grace the day is offering.

Among the things I haven't used my days for: posting on this blog. Bad me. I'm back home and on my slow dial-up connection; that's my excuse. But I'll try to be a bit more frequent all the same.

News:
1. For anyone who was praying for my Lyme disease test, it came back negative. Praise God!

2. I'm looking for a job. I hope I can find one before half my summer's gone!

3. I heard I had a poem published in Gilbert magazine. I haven't seen it myself. I hope it's good, because I can't even remember exactly how the thing went by the time I submitted it!