A Study in Oxford Habits (AKA: I should be studying right now)

In case anyone didn't know at this point, I have not been in America since 2013. Yes, that is a true fact. I left on the last day of last year and am currently out experiencing the world British-style.

I've been in Oxford, England for over 50 days now and will be for about another 50. I have walked more miles, eaten more carbs, drunk more tea, read more books, stayed up later nights, worn more dresses, and spent more money this semester than any before.

I won't even try to explain the schooling system here because it's incredibly convoluted to those that are unfamiliar with it. Having said that, some of my favorite (and most intimidating) moments of the term so far have been meetings with my Creative Writing tutor, Dr. Winn. None of us knew what to think of him at first, but after sharing four meetings, three cups of tea, six of my own poems, and about a hundred jokes with him, I am extremely thankful for every moment he has spared for my benefit. I didn't know what it meant to have your work torn to pieces until I worked with Dr. Winn. I can say, however, that it has been a life-changing experience. I've read entire poetry books and written better verse than I thought I was capable of. Tomorrow (Tuesday, since it's 4:45am on Monday here) is my last meeting with him, and it truly saddens me to think of all the instruction I haven't received yet.

Anyway, in honor of the nearing end of my tutorials, and in prayer for the end of winter back home in Ohio, here's one of the sonnets I've spent the last three weeks working on.

Winter Song

I learned in all the snippet days I’ve seen

I can’t forget the winter’s touch. I love

Each one; brisk wind propels me like a shove.

I feel a portion of my soul careen.

When childhood calls me like a time machine,

And in soft light I fight the flakes above,

It is the cold that wrestles me enough

To prompt another thought about the scene.

I dare to dig and scour through piles of white

To find the mislaid pieces of my heart.

For though my search escorts me now through sand,

I never can recover from the sight

That winter made by sun and earth apart;

My summer-children cannot understand.

Dr. Winn said to me in our last meeting, "You tense up when you're scared of something. It makes everything harder. Just relax your shoulders and let it flow naturally. It'll take work, but there's no need to be scared." I hope all you cool people take this to heart (not necessarily about poetry, but whatever you need it for) and let yourselves relax once in a while. Happy Spring!

(P.S. My Shakespeare tutor has been equally encouraging and wonderful to work with. Perhaps I'll dedicate a post to him next week.)