What was I looking for today?
All that poking under the rugs,
Peering under the lamps and chairs,
Or going from room to room that way,
Forever up and down the stairs
Like someone stupid with sleep or drugs.
Everywhere I was, was wrong.
I started turning the drawers out, then
I was staring in at the icebox door
Wondering if I'd been there long
Wondering if I'd been there long
Wondering what I was looking for.
Later on, I think I went back again.
Later on, I think I went back again.
Where did the rest of the time go?
Was I down cellar? I can't recall
Finding the light switch, or the last
Place I've had it, or how I'd know
I didn't look at it and go past.
Or whether it's what I want, at all.
by WD Snodgrass
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Are you familiar with the regular NPR program called The Writer's Almanac? It's Garrison Keillor's program of poems, prose and literary history. You can subscribe to the newsletter by email to have the selection sent to you . I love the idea of having a poem to read when I open my mail every morning.
*image is my backyard this morning. Cold. Rain. Fog.
