For my first post here of 2010, I demonstrate what happens when you read Nobel prize winning poet Seamus Heaney while watching people scramble to find power outlets for their cell phones in a crowded airport terminal during a weather delay. For those familiar with Heaney’s poem, “Blackberry Picking,” please forgive the little bit of pilfering.
Late August, given heavy rain and wind
blackberries come to receive and send.
At first just one, a frantic purple face
scanning baseboards, looking for a place
to insert plug, to feed a lust for power
among others, eyes downcast, expressions sour.
Their terminal inspections spread like vines,
corded hands outstretched, exposing tines,
twin lances bared in their ophthalmic brawl
which covers every post and food court wall.
Seeking what? A recharge to device?
To reconnect to love or thought or life?
Skies darken and more come slightly bowed,
when noticed they respond, their visage cowed
at having been caught up in such pursuit,
as if their souls would soon be set to mute.