I was inspired to write this poem while sitting in my AP Studio Art classroom. The room is big and full of large transparent windows that seem disproportionate to the rest of the room. I always chose to sit at the wheel closest to the window because every morning a beam of sunlight would come through, sitting directly on that wheel. One day I was sitting there in the sunlight, appreciating the warmth it put on my back, and making yet another not-so-beautiful bowl, and then I realized: I am horrible at ceramics. I can’t even make a decent plain round bowl to bring home for my mom to admire. Each bowl is completely obnoxious and wonky. So why did I continually take studio art semester after semester? As I sat in the sun, loathing my already off center bowl, I came to the conclusion that pottery in pottery class was not the reason I took studio art over and over again. It was the sun beam, the consistent beauty and warmth it gave me every morning. I looked forward to it, I looked forward to peering out the big windows of that classroom and predicting the weather with my art friends, and trying to remember what each cloud meant. Cumulonimbus, cirrus, stratus, and more! I looked out the window that day and I realized I was in that classroom to look at what was outside the classroom, and that wasn’t going to be good enough for me that morning. I wanted to be out experiencing it. For the rest of that class I watched the singular tree in the school yard dancing along with the wind and felt the sunlight touching my face, and the moment the bell rang I headed outside to lay in the flat grass and admire the sun again.
This poem has a special meaning to be, reminding me to lay in the grass, taste the beets, or even, ”stop and smell the roses,” as some would say. I hope all who read this poem find their own personal reminder in it. I encourage you to always keep searching for what gives you happiness and grab as much of whatever that is as you can. Life is short, I think we all could taste the beets a little more often.