I am a fan of straightforward descriptive poetry, the kind Robert Frost and JRR Tolkien wrote. But in the realm of poetry, there is also room for whimsey.
This storefront in tiny Dwight, Nebraska has no hours posted. There is no sign saying “I will be back at __:__”. I have never found it open. Yet it captures my imagination and takes me to a happy place.
Do you remember the first time you read a book or a series that put you into another word, and made it real for you?
Maybe for you it was the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings trilogy, or maybe it was the Harry Potter series, or if you are older, maybe even Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, Little Men, and Jo’s Boys. All of these books created a world different than our own, where we could live for awhile.
Even the humble middle-grade mysteries of days gone by… Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, or the Rick Brant Science Adventure series… transported readers to an alternate reality. A place where parents were cool, and rich. Where teens had more freedom and more adventure than happened in the real world.
These days epic fantasy is a genre description, requiring wizards, magic, a mysterious force, or entire races of non-humans. But the old books I’ve mentioned were fantasies as well. I have it on good authority that real life was never like in the books.
Whatever your entryway into the world of imagination, gratitude is due to those who wrote the incredible worlds we have come to love. So today I am saying thank you to all those who share imagination with us. It is a great gift to be given.
“All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king.”