From the Sat. Raccoon:
play:
click 'Go to link'
^,^
Blessings
by Ronald Wallace
occur.
Some days I find myself
putting my foot in
the same stream twice;
leading a horse to water
and making him drink.
I have a clue.
I can see the forest
for the trees.
All around me people
are making silk purses
out of sows’ ears,
getting blood from turnips,
building Rome in a day.
There’s a business
like show business.
There’s something new
under the sun.
Some days misery
no longer loves company;
it puts itself out of its.
There’s rest for the weary.
There’s turning back.
There are guarantees.
I can be serious.
I can mean that.
You can quite
put your finger on it.
Some days I know
I am long for this world.
I can go home again.
And when I go
I can
take it with me.
"Blessings" by Ronald Wallace from Long for This World. © University of Pittsburgh Press, 2003
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Up in the bedroom
https://www.facebook.com/KraftyKutsOfficial/videos/10152328864369429/?pnref=story
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At the Feeder
First the Chickadees take
their share, then fly
to the bittersweet vine,
where they crack open the seeds,
excited, like poets
opening the day’s mail.
their share, then fly
to the bittersweet vine,
where they crack open the seeds,
excited, like poets
opening the day’s mail.
And the Evening Grosbeaks—
those large and prosperous
finches—resemble skiers
with the latest equipment, bright
yellow goggles on their faces.
those large and prosperous
finches—resemble skiers
with the latest equipment, bright
yellow goggles on their faces.
Now the Bluejay comes in
for a landing, like a SAC bomber
returning to Plattsburgh
after a day of patrolling the ozone.
Every teacup in the pantry rattles.
for a landing, like a SAC bomber
returning to Plattsburgh
after a day of patrolling the ozone.
Every teacup in the pantry rattles.
The solid and graceful bodies
of Nuthatches, perpetually
upside down, like Yogis…
and Slate-Colored Juncoes, feeding
on the ground, taking only
what falls to them.
of Nuthatches, perpetually
upside down, like Yogis…
and Slate-Colored Juncoes, feeding
on the ground, taking only
what falls to them.
The cats watch, one
from the lid of the breadbox,
another from the piano. A third
flexes its claws in sleep, dreaming
perhaps, of a chicken neck,
or of being worshiped as a god
at Bubastis, during
the XXIII dynasty.
from the lid of the breadbox,
another from the piano. A third
flexes its claws in sleep, dreaming
perhaps, of a chicken neck,
or of being worshiped as a god
at Bubastis, during
the XXIII dynasty.
“At the Feeder” by Jane Kenyon from Collected Poems. © Graywolf Press, 2005
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Bell
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A Space Oddysey
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The boys' brushes
The churchbell lodged
in ancient timbers
At the steepletop
Rung by rope knotted
into a gigantic wooden pulley wheel
- mechanical
advantage -
Strung down through
air and pigeon leavings
Emerging cleanly in
the vestibule
A strong Sunday-dressed
child can ring it
Doves lodged in
ancient timbers
Flutter in and out
through louvers
Chicken-wired but
time-worn
Keeping their high
watches over the town
From coved and
linteled archways
Cooing mildly feather-cuddling silent
Generations of doves
nestled
In sanctuary at this
height
Lived with the
sleeping giant
Awakened only on
Sunday mornings to summon
The attention of the
worshipers gathered below
An under-used
instrument
Calling not because
of fire, death,
Disaster or rebellion
Struck in a foreign
foundry over a century ago
Freighted to this
town to be hoisted aloft
To be rung sedately
by Congregationalists
A ton of bronze
lodged in ancient timbers
With peaceful quiet
doves
Might be sounding
greater attentions
in times like these
Might be rung in
shifts 24 hours a day
With all bells
everywhere
Across the world
ringing out
our own ton of bronze
With thousands more
might speak out
In mad clamor to the
heavens
Our ancient dusty
megaphone
Oiled for Sunday use
only
Treasured mighty bell
Voice above us though
out of our sight;
The news from The
Holy Land
God’s Earth
makes me think we
should ring you
Until we lose
consciousness
[David Dix]
^,^
The boys' brushes
A thank you card from the kids
of Tom and Malena Koplin
The special cat-hair brush from
Paws for a Moment salon (top view)
For one of these super brushes for your cat,
shop Paws for a Moment Salon and boutique.
316 South St., downtown Waukesha.
Expert grooming.
From Tom Koplin, CPA, Katman too
Coming next week:
Ukelele moves to Montana
used bigtime once again
SEE -
