As If

 

Only a beige slat of sun
above the horizon, like a shade pulled
not quite down.  Otherwise,
clouds. Sea rippled here and
there. Birds reluctant to fly.
The mind wants a shaft of sun to
stir the grey porridge of clouds,
an osprey to stitch the sea to sky
with its barred wings, some dramatic
music: a symphony, perhaps
a Chinese gong.
But the mind always
wants more than it has —
one more bright day of sun,
one more clear night in bed
with the moon; one more hour
to get the words right; one
more chance for the heart in hiding
to emerge from its thicket
in dried grasses — as if this quiet day
with its tentative light weren’t enough,
as if joy weren’t strewn all around.
                                           “Mind Wanting More” ~ Holly Hughes

 

Comments always are welcome.

 

 

Blow, Thou Winter Wind

A favorite grove ~ 16 December 2018
The same grove ~ 6 January 2019

Committing to read the complete works of Shakespeare through the course of 2018 was an iffy proposition from the beginning. As I began to fall behind during the second month of suggested readings, I realized the goal, however lofty, wouldn’t be achieved.

On the other hand, I did continue reading throughout the year, and at its end had discovered unsuspected treasures in Shakespeare’s sonnets and plays. Especially pleasing were innumerable nature references I’d never noticed, and a delightful collection of songs tucked into the plays. Many of those songs, set to music by various composers and arrangers, continue to be performed today.

In Act 2, Scene 7 of the pastoral comedy As You Like It, a musician named Lord Amiens sings before a group of exiles in the forest. Seeing what the winter wind recently wrought in one of my favorite groves, I couldn’t help remembering, and appreciating, his song.

“Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind”  ~ Folger Consort
Folger Consort is the early music ensemble-in-residence at the Folger Shakespeare Library, Washington, D.C.
Blow, blow, thou winter’s wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
Thou dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friends remembered not.

 

Comments always are welcome.

 

 

Autumn Song

In the woods along Bonaldo Creek

 

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day.
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.
                                                               ~ Emily Brontë

 

Comments always are welcome.