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A Poem For You Dear Readers

I couldn’t resist posting this for my readers and friends who are poets and for those of you who love poems as much as I do, even though it isn’t Monday and even though I am taking a break.  For Kim and Kari in particular.

Monday – Billy Collins

The birds are in their trees,
the toast is in the toaster,
and the poets are at their windows.

They are at their windows
in every section of the tangerine of earth-
the Chinese poets looking up at the moon,
the American poets gazing out
at the pink and blue ribbons of sunrise.

The clerks are at their desks,
the miners are down in their mines,
and the poets are looking out their windows
maybe with a cigarette, a cup of tea,
and maybe a flannel shirt or bathrobe is involved.

The proofreaders are playing the ping-pong
game of proofreading,
glancing back and forth from page to page,
the chefs are dicing celery and potatoes,
and the poets are at their windows
because it is their job for which
they are paid nothing every Friday afternoon.

Which window it hardly seems to matter
though many have a favorite,
for there is always something to see-
a bird grasping a thin branch,
the headlight of a taxi rounding a corner,
those two boys in wool caps angling across the street.

The fishermen bob in their boats,
the linemen climb their round poles,
the barbers wait by their mirrors and chairs,
and the poets continue to stareat the cracked birdbath or a limb knocked down by the wind.

By now, it should go without saying
that what the oven is to the baker
and the berry-stained blouse to the dry cleaner,
so the window is to the poet.

Just think-
before the invention of the window,
the poets would have had to put on a jacket
and a winter hat to go outside
or remain indoors with only a wall to stare at.

And when I say a wall,
I do not mean a wall with striped wallpaper
and a sketch of a cow in a frame.

I mean a cold wall of fieldstones,
the wall of the medieval sonnet,
the original woman’s heart of stone,
the stone caught in the throat of her poet-lover.

 
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Posted by on September 14, 2019 in poetry, Uncategorized

 

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September Happiness

I’m taking a break for a few weeks so leave you here with the Action for Happiness Self Care September Calendar. Have a good month and look after yourselves, Dear Readers.

 
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Posted by on September 1, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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Windows, Tiles and Muffins

I noticed some windows in Redruth for the first time today and loved the fact that ‘DRESSES’ and ‘MANTLES’ are still etched into the glass. I’m hoping a local reader will know what the shop was in its heyday.

The West End Drapery Stores were quite something and the premises are still lovely on the outside. One section of the old shop is being renovated and has been recently painted and the floor tiles cleaned up.

I baked some Courgette and Mozzarella Muffins today and they were delicious.

 

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Shoes, Flags and Books

I walked past a shop today in our town and was surprised to see some wonderful shoes in the window.

There were flags along the prom in Penzance tonight as we went through to Newlyn to the Film House to see Bait –  a fabulous film that you should see if you can.

We treated ourselves to dinner in the Eat House at the cinema and it was scrumptious. I was pleased to see the cookery books on the counter.

 
 

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Posters, Puppy and Spires

There were protests all over the country today about our Parliament being prorogued.  1.5 million have signed a petition in less than two days. Despite our strong feelings, there was still humour to be found in some of the posters and in the words of our songs.

We met several friends there despite the whole thing only being organised overnight and we were delighted to met Georgie, a friend’s lovely curly haired puppy who has grown so much in a few weeks.

There are three spires on our Cathedral but only two visible from the car park.

 
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Posted by on August 29, 2019 in Cornwall, Photography, Postaday 2019, Truro

 

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Lighthouse, Surfers and Hay Making

Godrevy in the early evening is always beautiful.

Surfers were beginning to arrive.

The farmer in the back field has been mowing and baling and today brought the stacks to put in the shed. I love the autumn colours in this shot.

Tractor on the move

Checking on the names for the stooks or bales or stacks or bundles, I came across this information which made me smile.

 

 

Poem, John Clare and Blue Bloom

Here’s a poem by John Clare that resonates with me.

Nature Has a Feeling

All nature has a feeling: woods, fields, brooks
Are life eternal: and in silence they
Speak happiness beyond the reach of books;
There’s nothing mortal in them; their decay
Is the green life of change; to pass away
And come again in blooms revivified.
Its birth was heaven, eternal it its stay,
And with the sun and moon shall still abide
Beneath their day and night and heaven wide.

John Clare, photo  by Natalie Doig, sent to me some time ago.

And a little bit of nature from our garden……

 
 
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