Introduction to The Bard
When I spent a summer
with my cousins in California
My aunt and uncle
took us to my first
Shakespeare Festival.
I was 10.
My aunt had
walked me through
the play beforehand
so I’d know what to expect.
I loved the drive
from Chico to
Ashland, Oregon
through the mountains
snuggled in the car
with my cousins
my uncle and aunt
taking turns driving
and my grandma
engaging us all in
word games,
always the teacher.
As we entered the
outdoor amphitheater
I was entranced by
the theater itself
with tiered rock seating
and the stage and sets
as well as the general
buzz of excitement.
And then it began.
Actors entered the stage
from all directions in
gorgeous costumes
speaking this
magical lilting language
that I couldn’t understand
and yet fell in love with
nonetheless.
It didn’t matter that
I wasn’t sure what
was going on,
exactly,
I was just there.
Fully in the moment.
Transfixed.
Hypnotized by the Bard.
At 10.
My aunt kept glancing
at me,
catching my eye,
and smiling.
She had the same
look on her face
as I had on my heart.
She, too,
was in love.
With the Bard,
with the night,
with life.
It was truly magical.
Then it started to sprinkle.
And a ripple ran through
the audience as
actors began to come
onstage
wrapped in clear
poofy raincoats
to cover their elaborate
expensive
costumes
yet allow the audience
to still see their
Elizabethan ware.
The nice man sitting
to my right leaned over
and whispered to me:
“Excuse me.
Can you please tell me
what’s going on?
People are laughing and
I don’t quite understand.”
Turns out he was blind
and couldn’t see the
raincoats.
So I quietly conveyed
this and he chuckled lightly
as well,
now that he was in on
the joke.
When the light rain ended
the actors continued on
and raincoats
as if nothing had happened.
Although I’ve gone
to countless
Shakespeare festivals
and plays
from Canada
to Michigan
from DC
to Denver
and multiple times
in Ashland
and even seeing
the reconstructed
Globe Theater itself,
none can compare
to my inaugural introduction
to the Bard
when I was 10.
Begin Today
Perhaps
I have already met
The love of my life
And been loved
The best I will ever
Be loved
And perhaps
These are the best of times
And it’s pointless
To yearn for more
More connections, more enjoyment
More fulfillment
And maybe one day
Looking back on these times
I will be wistful
Knowing
That they
Were good
And maybe
That should be
Enough
But really,
What I long for
Is more
One more great
Romance of a lifetime
To love and be loved fully
One more whirlwind
Trip somewhere new
And unseen
A book of poems
Picked up by a publisher
To leave my mark
More time with my
Children and grandchildren
To see them grow and fly
More time with friends
To enjoy
To live life fully
To be alive
In the truest sense of the word
Fully, unquestionably alive
Perhaps
I’m trying to make up for lost time from
The pandemic
For sure
I’m trying to sort through grief
From Mom and Grandma
Without a doubt
I’m feeling loss
From the separation
And to figure out
Who I am in the
Singular sense
And I know that
Facing a birthday with a zero
Makes me philosophical
It’s not even
That big of one
When I think about it
It’s just not how
I imagined my life would be
At this stage of the game
And so I pause
To reflect
And wonder
What do I want to do
With this one wild ride of life
I’m on
And as I lean in
To the question
I hear the whisper of my soul
Be alive
Live fully
Begin today
Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes. She is a newly published poet, at age 59, with over 150 poems in print thus far. Jennifer has also published commentary about poetry. During the pandemic, she joined the online poetry community of The Daily Haiku.
Sparks of Calliope 