In his book, The Future of Success, former Clinton cabinet member Robert Reich rails about how everyone--and he means EVERYONE--can be found struggling today to do more, be more, cram more in. For workers this means embracing the belief they cannot stop for a moments rest at their jobs for fear of ending up getting downsized away. For parents this means a 17-year-plus commitment to make sure their kids all make it into college (and that said bills get paid), and for kids themselves it means squeezing in all those extras so vital to their future, like soccer, music lessons, 2nd and/or 3rd language classes, extra-credit homework.

The result of this, Reich asserts, has been that each one of us, no matter what our station in life, no longer has time to smell bagels, let alone coffee or the flowers. We have no time, no poetry, no realizations in (our) lives. What we do sniff, he adds, is the smell of resignation. Among young people, this means tuning out the whole scene and virtually bagging the idea of success. Among many adults, it makes for a mid-life crisis questioning whatever success has heretofore been achieved. . Is Reich correct? Are we as a society in fact now so time-squeezed that our vital work/school pressures threaten to devour us whole? Worse, perhaps theyve already devoured us and we dont even realize it!

Various studies of late have borne this out, of course: The typical number of hours worked on the job today compares unfavorably with the same time-measurement 20, 30 or 40 years ago. This finding seems to get borne out in survey after survey and industry after industry, again and again. The great long-voiced promise that technology will free us up for personal development, leisure, fun, etc., shortening our workweeks, and make work itself on the job so much easier, apparently had come to land with a deafening thud.

Its an old adage that rings true particularly well here: Work expands to fill the time. We humans got a knack for filling up our hours, no matter how many laborsaving devices we whip off the drawing board to afford us time to do fun things. Yet we keep filling such liberated hours with more drudge.

In the face of such an onslaught, how can we bring poetry back? Is Reichs lament our inevitable sad, unstoppable song?

Fortunately, the solution is simple, simpler than at first meets the eye. Reverse the tide now by looking up from this page (now!) and gazing out your window. Yes, were talking daydream here. Right now. Now! Lose yourself. Be idle. Do gasp! nothing.

(Pause while you do so.)

(Pause again while you REALLY do so.)

OK, for that briefest moment, you took ownership of your time and your life. You probably made up a poem of some kind right there in that moment, whether you realized it or not. You absorbed some beauty, grasped it, felt its core.

You made time for poetry.