I started the day with a few casual observations of the view out my front window, which is turning itself into a poem. I am starting to wind my day down now, after doctor's appointments, a trip to the wine store, and a nap. My little poem isn't quite finished yet, so I won't share it.

Instead, I thought I'd share one by Emily Dickinson, frequently entitled "Simplicity", although I suspect that title came from an editor along the way and not from Miss Dickinson herself.

How happy is the little Stone
That rambles in the Road alone,
And doesn't care about Careers
And Exigencies never fears—
Whose Coat of elemental Brown
A passing Universe put on,
And independent as the Sun
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute Decree
In casual simplicity—

Is that not lovely? I am quite charmed with the idea of a little stone "glowing" alone, with or without the sun's help, aren't you? And it's in such a simple form, too: rhymed couplets using iambic tetrameter (four iambs per line: taDUM taDUM taDUM taDUM). Simplicity, indeed, and yet the notion encompasses is anything but.

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