The Eagle and the White Heron

Every day they arrive

and by dusk they are gone

Rain on the river brings the eagle

and the white heron

They know that brooks can run dry

but this is a river

The eagle rises to the top of an old pine

watches with steel grey eyes

Listen

Rain without sound

makes the river shiver

The white heron holds its

glorious posture standing on a rock

All summer I watch and listen

as their reflections shimmer in the old water

I listen for their advice

One midnight they came to me

 like emmesarries

dared me to fly through the thick woods

As I lay on the granite in the time of sleep 

I  sighed

a sigh so deep from within my blood vessels

It shook the leaves to the ground

Now I know why the calcium in my bones,

will turn to stardust.

Writing Credo

I am going to write a novel and get it published.  I’m going to do it because writing a novel is worthwhile and because I have the talent to do it because I have something important to say to the world.  I refuse to let anything get in my way.

Wednesday's Poem

Waiting At The Window

These are my two drops of rain
Waiting on the window-pane.

I am waiting here to see
Which the winning one will be.

Both of them have different names.
One is John and one is James.

All the best and all the worst
Comes from which of them is first.

James has just begun to ooze.
He's the one I want to lose.

John is waiting to begin.
He's the one I want to win.

James is going slowly on.
Something sort of sticks to John.

John is moving off at last.
James is going pretty fast.

John is rushing down the pane.
James is going slow again.

James has met a sort of smear.
John is getting very near.

Is he going fast enough?
(James has found a piece of fluff.)

John has quickly hurried by.
(James was talking to a fly.)

John is there, and John has won!
Look! I told you! Here's the sun! 

Alan Alexander Milne

Yellow Mill River

Yellow Mill River 

It is winter. I am awake. The street is slick with a chilly light rain that will soon turn to snow. I am six and cannot sleep. The window is cold, I trace my name in the frost. Night is suspended between sleep and sleet. I am a child insomniac carefully watching the rain and the river.

The view from our window was the Yellow Mill River.  The river ended right before the NY/NewHaven railroad tracks surrounded by streets named Waterview and Seaview Avenues.  When my mother and I moved to Father Panick Village, our first apartment, I was 4 years old. A three room apartment seemed spacious to me compared to the boarding house rooms my mom had rented since her arrival from Puerto Rico. The late night view from the bedroom room held a fascination for me as I watched the lights of the factory reflected on the water and tried to imagine who lived across the water, who were the people who never turned their lights out, who, like me, could be up so late.

Wednesday's Poem

70  by  Emily Dickinson

"Arcturus" is his other name—
I'd rather call him "Star."
It's very mean of Science
To go and interfere!

I slew a worm the other day—
A "Savant" passing by
Murmured "Resurgam"—"Centipede"!
"Oh Lord—how frail are we"!

I pull a flower from the woods—
A monster with a glass
Computes the stamens in a breath—
And has her in a "class"!

Whereas I took the Butterfly
Aforetime in my hat—
He sits erect in "Cabinets"—
The Clover bells forgot.

What once was "Heaven"
Is "Zenith" now—
Where I proposed to go
When Time's brief masquerade was done
Is mapped and charted too.

What if the poles should frisk about
And stand upon their heads!
I hope I'm ready for "the worst"—
Whatever prank betides!

Perhaps the "Kingdom of Heaven's" changed—
I hope the "Children" there Won't be "new fashioned" when I come—
And laugh at me—and stare—

I hope the Father in the skies
Will lift his little girl—
Old fashioned—naught—everything—
Over the stile of "Pearl."

Beginning

What is so difficult about beginnings?  I used to think that  beginnings were easy.I made big plans and then eventually I'd  have to scale back.  Bored, disenchanted or discouraged? I wasn't sure what got in the way.

I'm reminded of things I began and never finished. Like that beautiful handmade Swedish rug I started in the 70's. I never finished it even though I kept it for more than 20 years. I thought that some day I would finish it. But I never did and finally I tossed it out! There was a part of me that probably was a little afraid of completing the project because then it would be judged. At the time I thought everything I made had to be perfect and since I knew it wouldn't, I short changed myself by not trying. I've learned a good lesson throughout the years, and that is, nothing is perfect. I've learned to break through the limits and judgements I place on myself and I've become stronger. When you are strong you probably don't judge yourself as harshly. 

Metal Spoon Daisy

Wow! I haven't posted to this blog for over two years, but that doesn't mean that I haven't been gardening.  In fact, I've been doing much, much more! As it is December 2012 Im going to post about making things to give away.  You know that the more you give away, the more you get back.  So this year it is knitting.  I'm going to post some new pictures of things I've knitted.  Oh so exciting!!!

There's more.  I've also been into DIY projects and have found so many things I want to make. Pics of that will be coming soon!