I don't like January. The antipation and colour and joy of Christmas is gone, and the New Year is always cold, dark, and brown and grey. January is a month for reflection, and far from being a time for new starts (living and breathing within the education system means September will always hold that spot) it fills me with a kind of dread. The best month, then, for a spot of bibliotherapy. Sartre said, "To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June", so am going to test that theory. A poem to raise spirits and energy levels, to infuse some positivity into 2012. Choosing something to post was a challenge, but in the end, I have simply indulged myself, and picked a favourite. You may like it - or you may not. But for me, it will always work as an instant pick-me-up, more potent than red wine or dark chocolate....
I taste a liquor never brewed,
From tankards scooped in pearl;
Not all the vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an alcohol!
Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.
When landlords turn the drunken bee
Out of the foxglove’s door,
When butterflies renounce their drams,
I shall but drink the more!
Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,
And saints to windows run,
To see the little tippler
Leaning against the sun! Emily Dickinson
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