Billy Collins is my favorite poet, as anyone who has ever met me probably knows. The former U.S. poet laureate writes approachable, almost mundane poems about the poetry in an average day. Maybe that’s not quite the right way to say that, but I still like him.
While skimming one of his books (Nine Horses: Poems), I came across this gem and was compelled to share.
Roadside Flowers
These are the kind you are supposed
to stop and look at, as I do this morning,
but just long enough
so as not to carry my non-stopping
around with me all day,
a big medicine ball of neglect and disregard.
But now I seem to be carrying
my not-stopping-long-enough ball
as I walk around
the circumference of myself
and up and down the angle of the day.
Roadside flowers,
when I get back to my rooms
I will make it all up to you.
I will lie on my stomach and write
in a notebook how lighthearted you were,
pink and white among the weeds,
wild phlox perhaps,
or at least a member of that family,
a pretty one who comes to visit
every summer for two weeks without her parents,
she who unpacks her things upstairs
while I am out on the lawn
throwing the ball as high as I can,
catching it almost
every time in my two outstretched hands.
~ Billy Collins
Also, check out this video of Billy Collins reading my favorite of his works. Even if you don’t like poetry, I promise you will like this one. If you don’t, we can’t be friends. Sorry.
