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I did something the other day that I haven't done for quite some time. 

I was talking to a boy (oooooOOOooooo...that's not what it was, though.  I've done that often :P) and the conversation turned to what his favorite poet was.  I was expecting some answer along the lines of Robert Frost or Emily Dickinson, or if I was lucky, Langston Hughes.  Instead the response was "Billy Collins".  I was like "Who is that?"

Turns out he's a contemporary poet.  He has this book called Horoscopes for the Dead.  I read the book in its entirety in about half an hour (a terrible pace to be reading poetry, I know, but I prefer to read poetry with a pen in hand...and I don't think my friend would have appreciated it if I marked up his book...)

It had been a while since I had read poetry, especially the contemporary stuff.  So it was refreshing yet slightly alien to read it then.  There were a few poems that stood out to me, although I must admit that on the whole, I don't think Billy Collins will really become one of my favorites.

Something remarkable, though, was the way that Collins was able to point out the seemingly arbitrary things in life and make them something new and thoughtful.  Like lawn chairs, perpetually unused.

Two of the poems that illustrated this awareness of life quite diligently were "Thieves" and "As Usual" (look them up, if you want)

Here are excerpts:

The magnolia will flower,

and the bee, the noble bee--

I saw one earlier on my walk--

will shoulder his way into the bud.

(from "As Usual")

I considered myself lucky to notice

on my walk a mouse ducking like a culprit

into an opening in a stone wall,

a bit of fern draped over his disappearance,

(from "Thieves")

I found myself wondering what motivated Collins to mention, in the middle of his discourse on the bee, the fact that he had seen one earlier.  I mean, we all see bees, probably on most of our walks. (Although winter walks maybe not..) So why bring it up, like some noteworthy event?

Especially in a poem titled, "As Usual".  Mmmm....good stuff right there.

But it got me thinking about all the things that we see on a daily basis--the noble things, even--that go completely unnoticed to us.

As Sherlock Holmes would say, "You see, but you do not observe!"

Observe: Benedict Yumberbatch

This idea was then reinforced in the opening line of "Thieves": "I considered myself lucky to notice".  How many things are we so fortunate to witness that are completely trivial to us?  I saw a bird die once, and I considered myself lucky to be there, and I've considered myself to notice dragonflies battling the wind, but I've never before considered myself lucky to witness birds taking flight, or grasses bending in the breeze.  Or even the delicious snow that has been falling so bountifully lately.

Why not take some time and notice things, then?  And then consider just how lucky you are to have shared that moment with the universe.

And if you're feeling like it, write a poem about it.

I currently have one under construction concerning the snow.  I'll be sure to post it when it's ready to meet you. :)