Tuesday, 30 January 2007 - A wandering sort of day

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for a wandering sort of day. Despite my inability to concentrate, I hope to accomplish a few important things before bedtime.

A. A. Milne, one of my favorite authors, captured my mood perfectly in this poem.

Where am I Going? I don't quite know.
Down to the streams where the king-cups grow -
Up to the hill where the pine-trees blow -
Anywhere, anywhere, I don't know

Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
Where am I going? The shadows pass,
Little ones, baby ones, over the grass

If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You'd sail on the water as blue as air,
And you'd see me here in the fields and say:
"Doesn't the sky look green today?

Where am I going, The high rooks call:
"It's awful fun to be born at all,"
Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:
"We do have beautiful things to do."

If you were a bird, and lived on high,
You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by,
You'd say to the wind when it took you away:
"That's where I wanted to go today!"

Where am I going? I don't quite know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow -
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.

- A. A. Milne, When We Were Very Young

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.