Miscellaneous Missives

Thirst by Claude McKay My spirit wails for water, water now! My tongue is aching dry, my throat is hot For water, fresh rain shaken from a bought, Or dawn dews heavy in some leafy spot. My hungry body's burning for a swin In sunlit water where the air is cool, As in Trout Valley where upon a limb The golden finch sings sweetly to the pool. Oh water, water, when the night is done, When day steals gray-white through the windowpane, Clear silver water when I wake, alone, All important of parts, of fevered brain; Pure water from a forest fountain first, To wash me, cleanse me, and to quench my thirst. Thirst is an interesting word because I feel that we all thirst for something.  I'm thinking of thirst as a verb and not a noun.  The people of Flint are not only thirsting for clean water, they are thirsting for recognition of a problem.  Bottled water is only a bandaid on a problem caused by ill will and greed.  As some of my students have narrowed th...

Picture of Mississippi River from Yesterday's Ride While I Am Writing a Poem to Celebrate Summer, the Meadowlark Begins to Sing   by Mary Oliver Sixty-seven years, oh Lord, to look at the clouds, the trees in deep, moist summer, daisies and morning glories opening every morning their small, ecstatic faces-- Or maybe I should just say how I wish I had a voice like the meadowlark's sweet, clear, and reliably slurring all day long from the fencepost, or the long grass where it lives in a tiny but adequate grass hut beside the mullein and the everlasting, the faint-pink roses that have never been improved, but come to bud then open like little soft sighs under the meadowlark's whistle, its breath-praise, its thrill-song, its anthem, its thanks its alleluia.  Alleluia, oh Lord. Another Sunday brings the word celebrate once again.  Yesterday's weather was a reason to celebrate.  It helped me make the decision to ignore grading and hit...

Wildpeace by Yehuda Amichai Not the peace of a cease-fire not even the vision of the wolf and the lamb but rather as in the hear when excitement is over and you can talk only about great weariness I know that I know how to kill, that makes me an adult. And my son plays with a toy gun that knows how to open and close its eyes and say Mama. A peace without the big noise of beating swords into ploughshares, without words, without thud of the heavy rubber stamp;  let it be light, floating, like a lazy white foam. A little rest for the wounds-- who speaks of healing? (And the howl of the orphans is passed from one generation to the next, as in a relay race; the baton never falls.) Let it come  like wildflowers, suddenly, because the field must hav it:  wildpeace Heal( ing) is something we all need.  It seems many times this healing takes hard work and patience.  I'm typically good with hard work, but I often struggle with the patience...

The Swan by Mary Oliver Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river? Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air-- An armful of white blossoms, A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned  into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies, Biting the air with its black beak? Did you hear it, fluting and whistling  A shrill dark music-- like the rain pelting the trees-- like a waterfall Knifing down the black ledges? And did you see it, finally just under the clouds-- A white cross streaming across the sky, it's feet Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river? And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything? And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for? And have you changed your life? See .  It's interesting that the word vision was used prior to the word see.  Once a week, I show a picture and the kids write about it using Perceive.  I've...

Surprised by Joy by William Wordsworth Surprised by joy-- impatient as the Wind I turned to share the transport -- Oh! with whom But Thee, long buried in the silent Tomb, That spot which no vicissitude can find? Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind-- But how could I forget thee? -- Through what power, Even for the least division of an hour, Have I been so beguiled as to be blind To my most grievous loss! -- That thought's return Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more; That neither present time, nor years unborn Could to my sight that heavenly face restore. Joy seems more like a Christmas word than a Lenten word.  It's also a word that is sometimes difficult to find in February.  It's turning out to be a joyful week after a slow start.  Tuesday night I met  friends for dinner.  They are wonderful women who bring joy even when life is stressful....

Lilies by Mary Oliver I have been thinking about living like the lilies that blow in the fields They rise and fall in the edge of the wind, and have no shelter from the tongues of cattle, and have no closets or cupboards, and have no legs. Still I would like be  as wonderful as the old idea. But if I were a lily I think I would wait all day for the green face of the hummingbird to touch me. What I mean is, could I forget myself even in those feathery fields When Van Gogh preached to the poor  of course he wanted to save someone-- most of all himself. He wasn't a lily, and wandering through the bright fields only gave him more ideas it would take his life to solve. I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river-- where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues-- where the hummingbird, whenever there is a fuss, just rises and floats away. Shelter.  I can't...

Covenant by Tennessee Williams If you are happy, I will give you an apple, if you are anxious, I will twist your arm, and if you permit me, I will be glad to hold you close to my heart forever and do you no harm. If I am happy, will you give me an apple? If I am anxious, you may twist my arm. And if you would like to, I would like you to hold me close to your heart forever and do me no harm. This is a bargain, only two can make it. This is a covenant offered with desperate calm, it being uncertain that lovers can drive out demons  with the gift of an apple or the twist of an arm. Posting in the morning is good because I can sit and drink my coffee while perusing my pictures for one that matches the word.  Finding poems and songs is also typically a pleasant experience, unless, of course, the word is covenant (Today's song has no lyrics).  A covenant is a promise, a pledge, a guarantee... I made a covenant with myself to work out at least three times ...