September 23: "High," Mondays, Arbor Day

It has been a Monday.

I know there are people out there who like Mondays.  I don't understand those individuals, the way I don't understand abstract algebra, organic chemistry, or MAGA Republicans.  Perhaps it has something to do with hope and possibility, as in, since last week was so shitty, I hope this week isn't going to suck ass, too.

I am not opposed to the possibility of a good Monday.  It's just that, in my experience, Mondays are the Arbor Day of the week--nobody really enjoys or celebrates them, except a few tree lovers, if you get what I mean.

Billy Collins has a good day, thanks to some enhancements . . . 

High

by: Billy Collins

On that clear October morning,

I was only behind a double espresso

and a single hit of anti-depressant,

yet there, on the shore of the reservoir

with its flipped-over row boats,

I felt like I was walking with Jane Austen

to borrow the jargon of the streets.

Yes, I was wearing the crown,

as the drug addicts like to say,

knitting a bonnet for Charlie,

entertaining the troops,

sitting in the study with H. G. Wells--

so many ways to express that mood

of royal goodwill

when the gift of sight is cause enough for jubilation.

And later in the afternoon

when I finally came down,

a lexicon was waiting for me there, too.

In my upholstered chair by a window

with dusk pouring into the room,

I appeared to be doing nothing,

but inside I was busy riding the marble,

as the lurkers like to put it--

talking to Marco Polo,

juggling turtles,

going through the spin cycle,

or--my favorite, if I had to have one--out of milk.

I did not start my day with an espresso/anti-depressant cocktail.  However, I did dose myself with a caffeinated beverage, but it didn't help.  It was still Arbor Day.

There were a few bright spots.  I had lunch with one of my best friends to work on plans for a book tour when my new poetry collection is released.  At the library, I hosted a great blues concert by a band fronted by another good friend of mine.  Both of these lifted my Monday spirits.  Not so much that I was walking with Jane Austen or wearing the crown.

When I got home tonight, there was a package waiting for me.  It was from a good poet friend, Dennis Hinrichsen.  He sent me a copy of his newest collection of poems, Dominion + Selected Poems.  Once I unloaded my car, put out the garbage for tomorrow morning, and changed into my pajamas, I sat down on my couch and started reading this gift, and it put me in the mood of royal goodwill, as Collins says.  My Arbor Day became Christmas as I unwrapped one poem after another.

I was reminded that I'm a really fortunate person.  I've got a beautiful, supportive spouse; great kids; a really cute puppy; and friends who send me unexpected presents in the mail that transform me.

Saint Marty will take another Monday like this any time.