"A Passing Glance"
by Robert Frost
I often see flowers from a passing car
That are gone before I can tell what they are.
I want to get out of the train and go back
To see what they were beside the track.
I name all the flowers I am sure they weren't;
Not fireweed loving where woods have burnt--
Not bluebells gracing a tunnel mouth--
Not lupine living on sand and drouth.
Was something brushed across my mind
That no one on earth will ever find?
Heaven gives its glimpses only to those
Not in position to look too close
I sought out the soothing words of Robert Frost today because the dark winter weather makes me feel so glum. As always, a beautiful string of words lifts my spirits.
Taking time to smell the roses doesn't always mean getting up close and personal. Sometimes it means understanding that the beauty of life, both literally and figuratively, can be the brief smile brought by a fleeting glance. I remind myself of this often, particularly in the winter months, when everything from the weather outside to the energy in my body seems dreary and lacking. As I've said before, I enjoy poetry, and find it entertaining and inspiring to read thought-provoking words that paint beautiful pictures in my mind. The imagination is a powerful tool. It breeds creativity, intellect, and happiness. I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to the gifted poets and writers who have ignited the torch of my imagination with the offspring of their own. In the dull, dark moments of my life, they are my companions. They are a light that beams me toward the brighter times ahead. Their value is immeasurable and intangible. They are constant. Words are.