Grief and Twine

Joy and woe are woven fine        
A clothing for the soul divine        
Under every grief and pine        
Runs a joy with silken twine.

Do you think William Blake is onto something about running?

At this time of year, many teachers I know claim to die a slow and mainly meaningless death by paper. Paper cutting, editing, grading, revising and shuffling. I don't mind so much because I can't imagine doing anything else, or rather I can't imagine procrastinating the doing of anything else. In fact, I'm not much good at anything else, except for this reading and writing business...and even then. I've got the twine, for sure, and some of the joy and woe. I say now and forever, long live William Blake's "mind-forg'd manacles", but here's to getting out of that rut.

...and "through the world we safely go", with our bus pass, house keys and whatever gets us from point A to B.

Happy running or whatever it is you do when you're not thinking about it.

Fail Better

Dear Mr. Ms. Mme.  I-think-we'll- pass-on-your-poem-this-time-around:

I'll go running anyway.

I will write anyway.

Anyway. Right. Where was I?

Oh yes. I was sitting on the bus across from a nun with a deep cut on her index finger, wondering why on earth I rushed to get to somewhere I didn't have to be.

And, planning my next long run at the same time.

Defiantly indefatigable might be another way of spelling s-t-u-p-i-d.

Pronoun diminished.