Near the end of spring semester, Professor
Phlox begins her lecture on the nature
and the character of bliss. “Remember
this:” she says. “Eternity is over-
rated. The ethereal is treasured
primarily by over-thinkers whose
conclusion is to dwell on the ideal.
But those abstractions—truth and beauty, time
and power—interrupt the means of bliss:
the sturdy kiss of lavender, the rich
and pitchy ride of soil, the noble trill
of this very April. Let’s not take notes
on this except with ears, eyes, and noses.
Absorb the is. Forget tomorrow’s quiz.”