I'm a very lucky person. I get to start
my weekends on Thursday night. So Friday always feels like Saturday to me. A
slow, pajama-clad day, baking brownies and watching cartoons with my three
year-old son. There's not much else I'd rather be doing right now, except maybe
sleeping. It's only fitting I should read a nice, content poem today. Not
unrequited love, no sorrow, no big questions about life. Thank you, William Carlos Williams,
for this lovely, simple, wonderful poem I enjoy reading again and again. Here's
someone who understands the simple pleasures of life, our reason for, in my
opinion, for existence.
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