Finally the sun, funny how it brightens the spirits. Was really desperate over the weekend, beginning to plan ways to get to Florida. Dreaming of the sun, the warmth, the sand, the palms. Helps to remember that 's it's only a 12-hour drive to Pensacola Beach.
The Windhover by Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)
To Christ our Lord
I caught this morning morning's minion, kingdom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl & gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, -- the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!
Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, o my chevalier!
No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.
And an original
After Book Club
Stepping from the warm house,
Breathing in the cold night,
And the stars --
White, many, near, far.
In the yellow room we'd talked
Of books and dreams;
Honesty and other lives;
Characters -- and ourselves.
Touching the dark horizon
A spare crescent moon waxes,
Blood red, barely there, giving small hint
Of the fullness the future brings.
Copyright © 2001 Cathy A. Dee. All rights reserved.
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