Just Burned Up

Why do I sit and smolder with rage?
Why do tears, for no reason, fall
Like sizzling water dropped on a hot iron,
Not cooling my anger at all?

March 16, 1941



Often at my work I’ve thought and planned,
My heart soaring off to some enchanted land.
I’ve wandered far and far away
From this, our world of toil and play,
Until at last my roaming Gypsy mind,
Returning from those glamorous lands,
Is startled, wonderstruck to find
I’ve done so little with my hands!

January 24, 1937

Cure for Insomnia

Some night perhaps you’ll find
Your eyes won’t close in sleep.
Here is one thing you can do
Instead of counting sheep:

Just make a mental list
Of things you like the best–
A kitten’s fur, Brahm’s “Lullaby”,
Spring wind on some hill’s crest;

Yellow butter, freshly churned,
Love story on a rainy day,
Red roses, and a robin’s song,
Remembered scent of clover hay.

Your little list will grow and grow–
And here I give you warning–
Before you know you’ve slept at all,
You’ll wake to find it morning.

February 18, 1940


This tip is shared at Works-for-Me Wednesday.