The sensation of being homesick— from "Bashō in Ireland" in The Rain in Portugal, by Billy Collins.
for a place that is not my home
while being right in the middle of it
which reminds me
of another Japanese poet
who wrote how much he enjoyed
not being able to see
his favorite mountain because of all the fog.
I'm going home tomorrow, and looking forward to a year with more poetry in it.
Billy Collins' latest volume was under the tree for me. He never fails to put a smile on my face. Reading "Dream Life," I delude myself for a moment thinking I actually could've written it.
Poetry works long hours
and rarely speaks to the tailor
as she bends to repair the fancy costumes
of various allegorical figures
who were told by Thrift how little she charges.