Welcome to Sunday Poetry. If this is your first visit you can read about the purpose and inspiration of my Sunday blogs here.
Despite a four hour debacle last week, which ended in triumph when a CVS pharmacist squatted beside a chair in the storeroom and gave me a hard-won flu shot, I still came down with the flu on Tuesday, or at least some distant cousin. One of my Facebook buddies commiserated and told me her own bout with this bug lasted five days. I’m counting down and should be bright-eyed by the time this poem posts.
However, in celebration (?) of this all too frequent occurrence in all our lives, I looked for an appropriate poem and found a new poet to love.
Wikipedia reports that Sorescu became so popular in his native country that his readings were held in football stadiums. He died at age sixty, a loss for us all.
Remember there are no quizzes here, no right ways to read or contemplate the poem we share. Absolutely no dissecting allowed. Just come along for the “read.” What line, word or thought will you carry with you this week? If you’d like to tell us where the poem took you? We’ll listen.