shiny pennies

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The dawn came up as thunderously and deliciously pink as a sunset today, then faded into a grey and gloomy overcast. "Red sky in the morning/ Sailors take warning./ Red sky at night,/ Sailors delight."

There is something vaguely irritating about finding that the old and homey sayings anyone might have learned at their mother's knee are as good as it gets ... that they cover the bases without any help from the new and shiny pennies of present-day interests and activities: "I" and "my times" are important and distinct, after all, and any experience or wisdom from the past could not possibly apply because if they did apply, how could "I" and "my times" twinkle like shiny pennies?

I traveled to the Himalayas, perhaps.
Or I ran a marathon.
Or I got laid in a Volkswagen beetle.
Or I had three children.
Or I once talked to Helen Keller.
Or I made money and grew secretive and subtle as an earthworm.
Or I went broke and it made me feel uncertain and afraid.
Or I am in control.
Or I am out of control.
Or purple and green are my favorite colors.
Or I experienced a knockout spiritual opening.
Or I wished I could experience some spiritual knockout.
Or my shoelace broke.
Or I uncovered heinous crimes.
Or I committed heinous crimes.
Or I once did something perfectly.
Or my imperfections overwhelmed me.
Or I was young and now am old.
Or I am old but still I am young.
Or I learned a lot and find that forgetting a lot is not so bad.
Or I laughed.
Or cried.
Or I discovered that blue sky is blue.
Or ....

 Or all the other shiny pennies, undimmed by the fact that shiny pennies are the norm, everywhere and always and so, in one sense, how shiny could they be? "Very," perhaps, or "not so very" -- no difference ... but shiny pennies cannot alter what anyone learned at their mother's knee, what they knew from the get-go.

Red sky in the morning/ Sailors take warning./ Red sky at night,/ Sailors delight.

Or not.
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