I just about laughed when I saw the title of the final poem in the book: "Peonies." Considering that's what the poem I wrote for Day 27 started off with. The content of the poem would be nice: I'd love for the parent with the peonies would only talk about what's growing. I love the look of peonies--my mom's get huge--but I couldn't stand all those black ants! The way they defile the blooms disgusts me.
"Winter Counts" had a really interesting theme at the end of it: history in reverse. The narrator is looking at a a buffalo hide in which Native Americans mark the years and depict stories of their people. I think my favorite lines from this poem are the first three in the final stanza: "But when these winter counts are read backwards,/the buffalo multiply, prairie schooners are driven away,/and the land-stakes are replanted with bur oaks."
It reminded me of a scene in my favorite childhood book: Bridge to Terabithia (hm...if I have twin girls, I might name them Tera and Tabitha). Jess and Miss Burke go to a museum in D.C. and Jess is both frightened and fascinated by a three-dimensional scene of Native American life. So I opened the book to page 100, and discovered the scene is only two paragraphs. Considering I haven't read that book in a long time, it's amazing to think I remembered that much about it. Although, I have read it dozens of times. I love it. Actually, I think I read it in late 2007. And I cried, like I always do. At least one tear.
But now I can begin "Ender's Game" by Orson Scott Card. I read the acknowledgements (since I'd rather be acknowledged for helping an author than actually be one) and the first paragraph of the introduction. Why only the first paragraph? Because that one ends as follows: "the novel stands on its own, and if you skip this intro and go straight to the story, I not only won't stand in your way, I'll even agree with you!"
Sorry Card, I couldn't help but also read the final paragraph. Which is poetry in the form of prose.
The story of Ender's Game is not this book, though it has that title emblazoned on it. The story is one that you and I will construct together in our memory. If the story means anything to you at all, then when you remember it afterward, think of it, not as something I created, but rather something that we made together.
I hope my copy of it fits well enough in my purse to take to work. Otherwise I might not finish it before Good Friday, when I want to start whatever is next on my list. (I can't remember right now, but I know it's documented and owned by me.)
Oh, and I feel inclined to point out that the back jacket said the name of one of Ender's siblings (I think it's a sister) is Valentine. Which is likely to be a tribute to the last sci-fi/fantasy book I read: Stranger in a Strange Land. Valentine Michael Smith is the name of the man from Mars.
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Driving home from Institute, I looked over into the lane next to me and noticed the hubcaps on the car passing me as I slowed to get on the on-ramp looked like they were moving backwards, when they were clearly moving forward. Within a mile, I had decided to change the radio station and ended up on one of the public radio stations. I have no idea which one or what show was currently on, much less what artist was being featured. And, part of me wishes I cared because I'd like to listen to the song whose ending helped inspire part of today's poem.
Here are the lines I scribbled while driving. (Yes, I know it's dangerous, but if you saw the poor manner in which they're written, you would conclude that I was concentrating on driving. And I always keep a pen within arm's reach while I'm in the car.)
"Wheels moving forward/Looking like backward/Sounding despairing/yet full of hope & joy"
Dichotomy
Forward, moving motions
Make the wheels appear in reverse.
Those atop the spinning circles
Know which way they're headed.
A song comes on, and the
Volume goes up.
The listener can hear
A high run and a low line,
With a gentle, hurried rhythm.
It sounds like something old
But is new in every moment.
The song is sounding despairing
With undertones of hope and joy.
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