Pat and the Poem

It's turned into another dreary day in the Southern Tier of New York.

We have a warm front moving in, but it will only be temporary - tomorrow morning, a cold front will come through.  But, in the meantime, the sun has deserted us once again.

When it's dreary, I lose ambition.  I'm stuck in the grey blahs.  And I couldn't think of anything to blog about today, so I turned to some blog sites I like for inspiration.

Dorothy, whose blog I've read for years, publishes a poem every Sunday. This Sunday, her selected poem was "Warning" by the Scottish poet Jenny Joseph.  It was written back in 1961, and it was a favorite poem of one of my co workers, Pat.  She had a copy of the poem at her desk for the several years I worked with her.  They were good years.

Although she's been gone nearly 24 years, her memory remains a treasured part of my life.  She wasn't granted old age - she died at the age of 58, from cancer.

She would tell me to lift myself out of those grey blahs, and I am going to do that.  We are granted a certain number of days, and most of us do not know when they will end.  The thought of Pat makes me smile today.

Here is Jenny Joseph (who died in 2018), reading the poem "Warning".