World Muse
MORE FROM THE REDISCOVERED DIARY
12.25.2000
Winter Heavens
by George Meredith
Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive
Leap off the rim of earth across the dome.
It is a night to make the heavens our home
More than the nest whereto apace we strive.
Lengths down our road each fir-tree seems a hive,
In swarms outrushing from the golden comb.
They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam:
The living throb in me, the dead revive.
Yon mantle clothes us: there, past mortal breath,
Life glistens on the river of the death.
It folds us, flesh and dust; and have we knelt,
Or never knelt, or eyed as kin the springs
Of radiance, the radiance enrings:
And this is the soul's haven to have felt.
by George Meredith
Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive
Leap off the rim of earth across the dome.
It is a night to make the heavens our home
More than the nest whereto apace we strive.
Lengths down our road each fir-tree seems a hive,
In swarms outrushing from the golden comb.
They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam:
The living throb in me, the dead revive.
Yon mantle clothes us: there, past mortal breath,
Life glistens on the river of the death.
It folds us, flesh and dust; and have we knelt,
Or never knelt, or eyed as kin the springs
Of radiance, the radiance enrings:
And this is the soul's haven to have felt.
12.26.2002
Snow softens the landscape-all the wood,
roads and yard entombed--silent I stood
remembering absent faces from the past.
roads and yard entombed--silent I stood
remembering absent faces from the past.
12.31.2011
The brink of another Year
Before the New Year feast
January thaw
Try to take a circle for souvenir
or capture curving peaks
They melt away.
News From The World Intrudes
ROBIN'S HOODS
ROBIN'S HOODS
"Anonymous"
has hacked into a major identity- security firm stealing prominent client's cash to make charitable donations!
The world of Internet, this netting interactivity
is a constant contest of forces jockeying
for position on the mother earth laptop.
Meanwhile, the household here sleeps
Fur-beings sprawled about
(Line from a song now out of reach)
Showing myself the way
.
back home to
New York City
42nd Street
Music by Harry Warren, lyrics by Al Dubin
cut to a silent collage of clips from the 1933 Busby Berkly Film
4 comments:
Big smiles here: especially for the shadow photo of you heading back to the city.
The melting ice makes a lovely sequence, too.
Barbara
something quite personal here.
and the innocence of dreams. nice
i love your ice pictures. i'm mesmerized when watching ice form and unform. nice post.
Hey ladies nice to see you tonight. I just got in from more physical labors and I'm feeling it.
Barbara I joined your blog musings with Google friend connect but can't make comments work--I use the pop up window for that reason and if you email me (its in the left column here) I'll explain how to make the switch. It's easy.
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