Tuesday, April 15, 2014
far afield
Well, what a time it's been. Last week a beloved older relative of ours died - this was not completely unexpected but remains a shock. And this week a beloved younger relative of ours needed help navigating a life transition. Without going into unnecessary detail, this contrast of young and old has been quite stark. I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a big field, watching one crop being scythed ahead of me and a new crop being sown behind me. Middle age, is this what it's like? Everywhere I look I seem to see some sort of memento mori. That's life, I guess. Thus I am considering taking to my bed. With a stack of books and possibly some snacks. Back soon (maybe).
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Happy Easter, Sarah.
Burning Leaves in Spring By Christopher Morley
WHEN withered leaves are lost in flame
Their eddying ghosts, a thin blue haze,
Blow through the thickets whence they came
On amberlucent autumn days.
The cool green woodland heart receives
Their dim, dissolving, phantom breath;
In young hereditaty leaves
They see their happy life-in-death.
My minutes perish as they glow-
Time burns my crazy bonfire through;
But ghosts of blackened hours still blow,
Eternal Beauty, back to you!
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Burning Leaves in Spring By Christopher Morley
WHEN withered leaves are lost in flame
Their eddying ghosts, a thin blue haze,
Blow through the thickets whence they came
On amberlucent autumn days.
The cool green woodland heart receives
Their dim, dissolving, phantom breath;
In young hereditaty leaves
They see their happy life-in-death.
My minutes perish as they glow-
Time burns my crazy bonfire through;
But ghosts of blackened hours still blow,
Eternal Beauty, back to you!
# posted by 
: 8:49 AM
: 8:49 AM 
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