As I sometimes do, yesterday after reading the verse which I included in my BLOG writing, I thumbed through the little book I kept in 1990 for poems/verses I wrote.  During that year, while I was still working, I wrote every day, not a BLOG post but at least two lines of verse.  I dated the writing.  Much of it was drivel; but when I read some of it now, I remember the moment.  I remember that red button and wonder what I did with it.

The Red Button

This morning
as I walked to my car
parked in front of the school on Randolph Street,
not expecting anything out of the ordinary, 
not expecting anything,
I found a small button on the sidewalk,
probably dropped from a child’s dress
as she walked to school.

At the time,
in that first instant
the button seemed astonishingly beautiful,
impossibly red,
perfect…
like, I guess, that first moment
when you see in a store 
for the very first time
at Christmas
something.
or at another Christmas time long ago
when I opened my front door
and there you were.  

Wednesday, November 14, 1990

I hope you have time to read the NY Times piece about our neighboring country’s work to help Syrian refugees resettle:

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/07/01/world/americas/canada-syrian-refugees.html?emc=edit_na_20160630&nlid=39915445&ref=cta&_r=0