What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
time and time over.
They are to be happy in;
where can we live but days?
Ah, solving that question
brings the priest and the doctor
in their long coats
running over the fields.
What are days for? Days are where we live. Sometimes when I wake up, these lines run through my head like a mantra, a suggestion, or a prayer. My work life has changed a lot in the past year as I left my job at a non-profit and accepted various part-time teaching positions. Sometimes the list of “stuff” and chores I know I have to do each day feels very heavy. But if I happen to remember this poem, I might slow down.
They are to be happy in; where can we live but days?
Photo by Angela Loria on Unsplash
They are to be happy in: to greet the morning’s work with a glad heart, to go slow enough to notice all the beauty and funniness in my life. I don’t think of Phillip Larkin as a particularly hopeful poet (here’s another of his poems I like, very different that this one) but in this poem he did infuse some peace.
Today, I am sitting in silence for a minute writing this, and soon I’ll be off to enjoy a delicious lunch with a couple of old, dear friends. May your day unfold with living and happiness, too.
P.S. If you’re still reading, you might have noticed that my “Poem of the Week” isn’t exactly weekly. It’ll likely be more occasional than weekly, but I think I’ll keep the title just for fun. Happy Saturday, friends!
Kimberly O'Connor 