Here in the nation's capital, the cherry blossoms have come and gone. This means the warm weather will soon bring out the ice cream trucks, and I'll be confronted once again by their inconvenient truth. It's not new knowledge that matters of race permeate the depths of our history and infiltrate the most innocent of experiences, even the simple pleasure of ice cream (who can forget Eddie Murphy's famous, NSFW routine about the poor black experience with ice cream trucks ?). However, when the reach of racism robs me of fond memories from my childhood, it feels intensely personal again.
It would be more holistic to take time to understand the whole person before making dietary recommendations, and occasionally temper those recommendation with an acknowledgment of other elements in that person’s life. But too often patient and alternative practitioner work together to create an exaggerated focus on food.
Why does the speaker in the poem argue that "a summer's day" is an inappropriate metaphor for his beloved in Sonnets 18?