Thursday, January 29, 2009

Give time, time.

I would like to remember today, and everyday, that:
I am not just a brain floating around on earth. I have a body that is a home for my brain. . . Which needs to be cared for, so it lasts many years.

That reminds me of a book I used to read as a child:

A husk is a house for a corn ear.
A pod is a place for a pea.
A nutshell's a hut for a hickory nut.
But what is a shelter for me?

A glove is a house for a hand,
A stocking is a house for a knee.
A shoe or a boot is a house for a foot.
And a house is a house to me!

A box is a house for a teabag.
A teapot's a house for some tea.
If you pour me a cup and I drink it all up,
Then the teahouse will turn into me!

Cartons are houses for crackers.
Castles are houses for kings.
The more that I think about houses,
The more things are houses for things.

Perhaps I have started farfetching...
Perhaps I am stretching things some...
A mirror's a house for reflections...
A throat is a house for a hum...

But once you start thinking,
You think and you think and you think,
How pockets are houses for pennies;
And pens can be houses for ink!

How peaches are houses for peachpits,
And sometimes are houses for worms.
How trashcans are houses for garbage,
And garbage makes a house for germs!

And envelopes, earmuffs and eggshells.
And bathrobes and baskets and bins.
And ragbags and rubbers and roasters.
And tablecloths, toasters and tins...

And once you get started in thinking this way,
It seems that whatever you see.
Is either a house or it lives in a house.
And a house is a house for me!

A book is a house for a story.
A rose is a house for a smell.
My head is a house for a secret,
A secret I never will tell!

A flower's at home in a garden.
A donkey's at home in a stall.
Each creature that's known has a house of its own,
And the earth is a house for us all.

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