Mundane

The best laid schemes o' mice an' men/Gang aft agley."

Bobbie Burns. I wonder how he would feel at such familiarity from a woman he has never met? Probably just fine. His problems did not seem to lie in the area of lasses, neither young, nor old, but in his profound way of looking at life.

Speak of writing about mundane things and the things of life. A twenty six year old man plowing a field in November of the late 1780s turns over a field mouse's nest and writes a poem that people still quote, though not quite precisely, over two hundred years later.

I was thinking of it today when all my plans went awry.

I, like Robert Burns, am much luckier than that mouse. I have not lost hearth and home, only a few planned pleasures. I won't even go into all the people that do lose everything in the breath of a moment. Such a subject is truly incomprehensible except to them alone. I write of all the little things that make the road fork into all sorts of other possibilities.

Including another poem.