Reflecting On My Current Read

For the third time in my life, I am reading The Voice That Is Great Within Us, which was the first "grown up" collection of poetry I read as a kid. 

The book was tucked away on a shelf in my maternal grandmother's attic. I found it one summer when my brother and I were bored and looking to amuse ourselves among her various collection of Things she had stowed on the top floor of her house. 

When I presented her with my find, she said I could certainly read it, but that it had to remain where I found it upstairs; I was not allowed to take it home. 

Over the years, I would pick it up, discover a new poet or two, then put it back in its place. 
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When she died, the original copy went to my parents' house, where I believe it remains to this day.

During the pandemic, I once again found myself overcome with boredom, and this collection came to mind. (Divine intervention? Fate? I'm not smart enough to put a name to why this specific book of poetry landed back in my life.) I ordered my own copy via bookshop.org and it's been on my shelf ever since. 

What strikes me the most about this book is not the words contained therein, though they are pretty important to me. As I am revisiting the poems, I can't help but think about how much I would have missed if I had not been bored that summer afternoon all those years ago. 

Perhaps I should welcome boredom more often in the future...