I started off the afternoon with a little poem by Billy Collins entitled The Country.
Read or listen to it at The Writer’s Almanac HERE
Here is just a taste
I wondered about you
when you told me never to leave
a box of wooden, strike-anywhere matches
lying around the house because the mice
might get into them and start a fire.
But your face was absolutely straight
when you twisted the lid down on the round tin
where the matches, you said, are always stowed.