Saturday, 20 October 2012
Poetry Saturday . . . The Wild Geese
Last night when skies were still,
Slept, sunk in deepmost night,
Beneath the sinking moon
The wild geese passed in flight.
Their whirring, beating wings
Flow southward through the dark,
Deep stillness after them
Only the soul might mark.
The changing of the year,
The coming breath of cold,
Along the Grampian slopes
The birches will be gold.
Snow upon Eskdalemuir
And, where wild pigeons brood,
The aspens all in flame
Fringing the Ord Bain wood
Will burn in scarlet leaves.
The clearing glows at night,
Cairngorm is crowned with snow,
The whirring wild geese flight
Went by in solitude
'Neath a low orange moon.
The summer hush has gone,
The wind will change its tune.
Heather and birch and pine,
Three wild and lovely things,
And all the taste of them
Swift on those passing wings.
I could find out nothing at all about the poet that wrote the poem I have shared with you this morning. It is a poem I found in an old anthology of mine which I have had for a very long time. "The Fireside Book of David Hope, 1977." It is a most unusual poem in that the breaks betwixt the verses come seemingly in the middle of a thought . . . one almost wants to fix it and put them back where they belong, except that is obviously not what the writer intended. I wish I could tell you more about M C Adamson . . . but alas, I cannot. I know not whether they be male or female, dead or alive . . .
I only know I found the poem most fitting for this time of year.
We are supposed to have an Indian Summer over the next week. Autumn heatwaves are generally what is considered to be an Indian Summer . . .
The expression 'Indian summer' has been used for more than two centuries. The earliest known use was by French-American writer John Hector St. John de Crevecoeur in rural New York in 1778: "Then a severe frost succeeds which prepares it to receive the voluminous coat of snow which is soon to follow; though it is often preceded by a short interval of smoke and mildness, called the Indian Summer."
Whatever the cause and reason for it . . . I will enjoy it, for I know it will probably be the last bit of truly "nice" weather we shall have before the Spring next year!
Not a lot on today. Good thing too as I have a somewhat ticky tummy . . . I think I ate something I shouldn't have yesterday and it's playing havoc with my digestion. You would think I would know after all this time the things I should eat and the things I shouldn't, but . . . apparently I don't! It shall be a stay at home day for me today . . . but . . .
"There is nothing short of staying home for real comfort . . ."
Baking in The English Kitchen today . . . Fairy Gingerbread Biscuits.
Light as a feather and absolutely scrummy!
Happy Saturday to you all. Hope your day is a fine one!