It is the end of what has been a long,tiring day for me.
I almost forgot all about my November writing commitment .
Clearly,I have nothing to write about today.
Shall I leave the page blank?
Shall I try to write a blog about having nothing to say?
I don’t think so.
Some writers might be able to pull that off. Not me.
Let me share a poem by one of my favorite writers.
It has nothing to do with me or the weather or this day, but it’s sweet just the same.
The Cornfield
by E. B. White
Up to the cornfield, old and curly,
I took Joe, who rises early.
Joe my yearling, on my shoulder,
Observed the old corn growing older.
And I could feel the simple awe
He felt at seeing what he saw.
Yellow light and cool day
And cornstalks stretching far away.
My son, too young and wise to speak,
Clung with one hand to my cheek,
While in his head were slowly born
Important mysteries of the corn.
And being present at the birth
Of my child’s wonderment at earth,
I felt my own life stir again
By the still graveyard of the grain.
There you have it. Isn’t it wonderful?
Now, goodnight!
