I used a funny reversal of words today (a malapropism), but didn't write it down so it has vanished from memory. With our exhibit, I have had so many great conversations the last few days. People have shared the names of artists, podcasts, books, recipes, and poets. All things I want to learn more about, but my attention has been so divided very few of the thoughts or titles were recorded in my brain or better yet on a piece of paper. At dusk tonight Warren took the dog walk in the dark. I thanked him and off he went, but after they left I realized I still needed to get outside. I cleverly malapropismed "it gets darkly so early." I walked to the pond in that light when the trees are barely distinguishable from the field, but the white feathers of today's nine visiting swans were still brilliant against the water."Yesterday someone said,
'It gets late so early.'
I wrote it down.
I was going to do something with it.
Maybe it is a title and this life is the poem."
--Naomi Shihab Nye from the poem Fuel