The New Year dawns at the Piedra Rahada. I recite To the New Year, by W.S. Merwin Hear it here.
Walking Chicago streets is not as conducive to internalizing poems as a walk in the mountains. It’s been a good lesson adapting. The city light in the videos recorded irk me, highlighting my waddle, there are people everywhere, talking and traffic and sirens and no birdsong. Still it’s good to step outside perceived requirements for accomplishing a task, and do it anyway.
It’s been amusing turning heads as I stroll alleys, picking up garbage, reciting; I truly look like a crazy person.
The poem may sound cynical, but I don’t think that’s Merwin’s intent. I think he hears and honors the thank you in each moment. This week’s recitation, Thanks, by W.S. Merwin speaks more eloquently than I can these days of where my head is at.
Happy hump day; remain grateful.