Honeypots and Thoughtful Spots

I’ve been sitting in my thoughtful spot today. No honeypot. Just me and my thoughts. Think, think.

And I don’t really have much to say. It’s been one of those days when my mind has already gotten a head start and is miles down the road before my mouth has a chance to hop in the car and gun it to catch up. Words are in last place in this race between the mind and the tongue.

They’re taking their time. But they’ll make a comeback when they’re good and ready.

And when I’m ready, I’ll write.

Eternal Reverie

Morning stopped,
To listen to the mighty whisper
Of the heron's unfolding wings.
It stopped for the oaks,
Their arms outstretched
Against a rosy and roused canvas.

The sanguine sky with his timid demeanor sat,
Rubbing his slumber-glazed eyes.
And the morning stopped to admire him,
Rendering his cheeks an emblazoned red.
Morning stopped for the barefoot hills,
Scampering with pleasure towards the horizon.

It stopped for the callow ground,
Set like a dream amidst a lazy tier of fog,
And embellished with altogether flawless beads of dew.
Morning stopped to compose itself,
Beaming with the youthfulness of daylight.

It is a mystery.
Morning stopped,
But aroused an eternal reverie.

Let Me Never Forget The Delight of Reading

Listening to: "The Heart of Life" (John Mayer)

I started thinking about books today. Well, actually I've been thinking about them all week long.
Moreso I guess about how much I miss them, and what a big hole my life has when I'm not immersed in one.

I wish I were as crazy book-obsessed as I was when I was a kid. I was a voracious reader. My parents didn't let us watch television until we learned how to read. And before then, I would grab books and stand in front of my grandmother with my back to her until she picked me up to read to me. (Even as a three-year-old, I'm sure that was not the most charming thing I could have done.) So I'm not real sure what happened. But I don't like it. I miss the worlds I used to get lost in daily. I don't even intentionally find time to read anymore.

It's more than pathetic. It's tragic.

Books are incredible. I'm missing out on a heck of a lot. I'm missing out on worlds that I've never even discovered. It's a blessing I suppose, that I have worlds to remember. They're what's motivating me to pursue books again. Let me never forget the delight of reading. Libraries are exhilarating. They are portals to a neverland where the imagination is set free and where the mind may go wherever it pleases. Books are vast worlds, that are ours to envision and hold dear. And words. Words are extraordinary. They are glorious. And words are unforgettable. They resonate. And endure like memories.

So, this summer, I have a simple goal. Just, read.

Ten Books I Plan On Devouring This Year:
"Anna Karenina" by Leo Tolstoy
"Till We Have Faces" by C.S. Lewis
"The Four Loves" by C.S. Lewis
"The Stranger" by Albert Camus
"The Sun Also Rises" by Ernest Hemingway
"Bird by Bird" by Anne Lamott
"The Catcher in the Rye" by J.D. Salinger
"Mein Kampf" by Adolf Hitler
"Walden" by Henry David Thoreau
"The Death of Ivan Ilych" by Leo Tolstoy

And many more...
Comment with your five favorite books, books you plan to read, or just book suggestions:

Today...

Originally uploaded by Tommy Petroni

This is what I miss.