For long weekends. For warm blankets. For cheap plane tickets from Florida and Rota, Spain. For 6 year olds, for puzzles (except when they are missing a piece). For dogs with cold noses who warm up my feet at night. For vegetarian stuffing and fathers who wash dishes. For friends in town and chilly nights outside by a fire. For big families, and lots of love.
HERE AND HUMAN
In the warm room, cushioned by comfort, Idle at fireside, shawled in lamplight, I know the cold winter night, but only As a far intimation, like a memory Of a dead distress whose ghost has grown genial. The disc, glossy black as a conjurer’s hat, Revolves. Music is unwound: woodwind, Strings, a tenor voice singing in a tongue I do not comprehend or have need to - ‘The instrument of egoism mastered by art’ - For what I listen to is unequivocal: A distillation of romantic love, Passion outsoaring speech. I understand And, understanding, I rejoice in my condition: This sweet accident of being here and human. Later, as I lie in the dark, the echoes Recede, the blind cat of sleep purrs close But does not curl. Beyond the window The hill is hunched under his grey cape Like a watchman. I cannot hear his breathing. Silence is a starless sky on the ceiling Till shock slashes, stillness is gashed By a dazzle of noise chilling the air Like lightning. It is an animal screech, Raucous, clawing: surely the language of terror. But I misread it, deceived. It is the sound Of passionate love, a vixen’s mating call. It lingers hurtful, a stink in the ear, But soon it begins to fade. I breathe deep, Feeling the startled fur settle and smooth. Then I sleep.by Vernon Scannell
I love this poem.
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— Wendell Berry
I downloaded the trial version of Photoshop Elements today. I wanted to see how it compared with the CS3 version we have at work. So far, I’m pretty impressed. Since I won’t be doing any crazy editing and really just like playing with the artistic tools, I think it will suit my purposes. Check out this liquefied leaf I did earlier today -
And…
Here are a few things that are OKAY with me:
1. Letting my dog jump on my bed, even if her paws are dirty.
2. Using frozen pie crust (for instant gratification).
3. Waking up early on my day off.
Name: Dragon Donkey (Latin: Donkus Dragonia)
Habitat: A fascinating creature, the dragon donkey prefers to hide in the cavernous hollows under sofas or on high shelves far off the floor.
Predators: The dragon donkey’s only known predator is the ever-happy house dog, who upon capturing the beast, tortures it to death, seeming to delight in watching its innards rain around them in torrents of cotton.
Note: This picture of the dragon donkey out in the wild captures him in a rare moment of bravery and spontaneity. Unfortunately, his boldness was rewarded only by the keen-eyed house dog, who captured him and immediately began the horrific torture rituals. We have not, at this time, been able to recover the dragon donkey and fear that he may be resting on that final shelf up in the sky.