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And Max the king of all wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all. rainy day. overcast & humid. a day of gray & wet & no sun to warm the surface of the earth. a day when even the bright orange poppies in my garden lower their heads & prey for warmth. there is no color today. the world is a palette of mute tones & faded thoughts. even without windows in my office i know what it looks like outside. on days like this, the world feels like it is in a holding pattern. time is an old man on a park bench. the muse scatters crumbs for the pidgins at her feet, watches clouds slide slowly overhead, like barges on a lazy river. there is no magic today. it is a time of reflection & waiting. the moon will sleep in tonight, take her time heading out, leave early while the boss is not looking. flowers will call it a day, lean against each other for support, tell stories quietly into the dark night. tomorrow is so much promise & hope & dreams left to simmer. but tonight is coffee & cigarettes & a woman softly singing about affairs of the heart, while the guitar in her hands dreams of roots & leaves & the warmth of the forest floor. tomorrow is everything i have ever worked for. tonight is the place i call home. looking forward to a long drive & a quiet night at the coffeehouse tonight. looking forward to some time to just be. hope you all have a good night. be well. But the wild things cried, �Oh please don�t go- we�ll eat you up- we love you so!� And Max said, �No!� The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and wave good-bye. -Maurice Sendak Where The Wild Things Are |
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