One day is worth a thousand tomorrows.
– Benjamin Franklin
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
– Robert Frost
Mending Wall
Wave upon wave like a sea’s green shallows
Breathing below.
Or perhaps his own high hopes had made
The wizened look tall.
Walking in the fields taking photos for the “Today” challenge, I suddenly saw the “waves” and the “sea’s green shallows”, and realised I’d never seen it like that before. Is it perhaps the value of poetry, that it lets you see things differently?