Have you picked up The Complete Poetry by Maya Angelou? It was released in the spring
of 2015 and I was lucky enough to get my hands on a copy right away. I wrote a
review of this book for my local newspaper. You can find an online version of
the review here. Lovers of poetry and fans of Maya Angelou—please check out
this book! It is wonderful, of course. But it is also an amazing feeling to
hold the weight of this phenomenal
woman’s lifework of poetry. As I read through the poems—some I’d seen
before, many I hadn’t—I experienced a whole range of emotions, I reflected, and
I learned.
While reading the book and preparing my
review, I had begun reading outside again in parks for the first time this year.
It was very early spring, snow patches still melting under pine trees, maple buds
just beginning to appear. I had decided to reread I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, which I took along with The Complete Poetry to a park in Elora
one sort-of-warm but mostly-cool March day.
With my husband beside me on a park
bench (reading The Orenda by Joseph
Boyden), I began my session with the poetry collection and moved on to the
autobiography, placing The Complete
Poetry behind me against the bench to shield my back from the cool breeze.
(Survivors of Canadian winters know that even poetry books protect against the
cold if positioned creatively.) In all honesty, it wasn’t too cold. We even
took off our jackets for a short time (five seconds) to remember the feeling of
outdoor air on skin. So really, it wasn’t necessary that I put The Complete Poetry behind me on the
bench. I shouldn’t have. You can probably tell by now where this is going.
I am ashamed. I left the book in the park.
On the bench. I don’t even live in Elora. We had taken a little day trip to the
charming tourist town. We were now back at home. It was the next morning. I was
seated at the breakfast table with my first tea, sun rising above the backyard
maples, a red cardinal singing on a bare branch. I reached over to my pile of
books to pick up The Complete Poetry.
It wasn’t there.
We considered driving up and looking for
it, but we had only an hour before we needed to get ready to go visit friends
in the opposite direction of Elora.
I got myself another copy of The Complete Poetry and entertain myself
imagining all the possible outcomes of the one I left on the bench in the park.
Teenagers found it later that night attracted to a glossy shine on the word Poetry in the moonlight. One of them
took it home and is now hooked on poetry.
Or perhaps after a night of paying bills
with borrowed money, a man, led by a dog, discovered the book the next morning.
He is now a Maya fan and has started writing poems again.
Or could it be that two sisters walked
together at sunset after finally settling a dispute that separated them for
years? In the park, they happened upon a beautiful poetry book and to this day
they pass it back and forth after their rekindled weekly coffee meet-ups.
Wherever the book is, no doubt it has
brought some inspiration to the life of its new owner.
Today's Poetry Friday Round-Up is at Life on the Deckle Edge. Thank you, Robyn!
Hi Sheri, I really enjoyed your review, and your story about the lost book and who might have found it. It's lovely to meet a fellow-Canadian. I have visited Guelph (went to a writer's conference there several times) and Elora (though I live on the opposite side of Canada). What a delightful place.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Violet!
DeleteSheri, I have a feeling it was no accident you left that book behind. Someone came along who really needed it, I bet. Your post reminds me of how much we need to share the books that move us... we should all leave books on benches -- on purpose! Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteYes, we should leave books on benches on purpose! Maybe I'll "forget" a book in Elora again next spring. : ) Thanks, Irene!
DeleteLove this backstory, and your imaginings about where that book might have ended up! (I also didn't know about it - thank you for remedying that.)
ReplyDeleteI hope you check out this book, Robyn. Thanks!
Delete