I am a fan of Naomi Shihab Nye’s poetry. She makes me stop. She makes me think. She makes me wonder.
Perhaps you’ve read her poem, “Kindness”. Here’s part of the first stanza:
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
I’ve been thinking a lot about kindness lately, noticing it as I go through my days. There is a lot to notice, much to my surprise. For now my thoughts are percolating and I continue to notice and be surprised. And notice my being surprised.
As I percolate, take this nugget from Naomi. It is a “found” poem, snippets of things her son said. I totally love it.