to enjoy the enjoyable. It seems a modest enough aim <br />and what we're meant to do by human nature, surely? and yet <br />that urge to set up the next scene, to move on - do you remember <br />those old films where the heroes were always saying to their side-kicks <br />'let's get outa here! ...' pioneers of the about-to-be - this moves us on; <br />so 'here' doesn't stand much chance of being enjoyed; <br />and nor does 'now'; and can we ever say <br />whether we enjoy things more or less than others <br />- or more or less than our parents or grandparents? <br /> <br />and here I remember my mother, who could recall <br />in vivid detail with a humbling gratitude, every minute <br />of some rare act of kindness done many years before - <br />an unexpected car trip to the park, a fresh baked cake, <br />those things which are small change to real neighbours <br />but which she so often gave, so rarely received; <br />(the old should never move, uproot, unless of gipsy nature; <br />friends are not so easy made among their settled peers) . <br /> <br />So how precious the nap of an afternoon, if properly enjoyed: <br />a few minutes, and the brain's wiped clean <br />of all the morning's bruising, weighed concerns. <br /> <br />The eyes open on the sight, today, of an angel <br />depicted by Piero della Francesca to console a duke <br />whose only son died as a youngster in his bloom; <br />and thus he has the likeness of that son, enjoying <br />eternity <br />in my back room. So instead of getting outa here, <br />a book of poetry idly picked up, with the phrase <br />'the world forgetting, by the world forgot'; and then, <br />gently overwhelmed by the lovely yearning <br />to visit that place where poetry enjoys itself <br />in unrevealed mysteries - mine, his, hers, yours, read, written - <br />and in being, simply to enjoy <br />simply being.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0249-to-enjoy/
