I ventured out late afternoon, when the rain had stopped, to catch raindrops on flowers. A twig with Lichen had fallen from the Winter Flowering Cherry onto the Cotoneaster with its glorious red berries.
Di’s rose still blooming
Twig with lichen has fallen onto the beautifully berried Cotoneaster
Finding it hard to open today with no sunshine
Twig with lichen has fallen onto the beautifully berried Cotoneaster
White Poppy bud in late October
Pansy with raindrops
Today, one of my Blogger friends posted this beautiful poem, High Flight, which is one of Mr S’s favourites having found it some years ago. It was written by John Magee, Poet and Soldier, 1922–1941. In his seventh flight in a Spitfire Mk I, he had flown up to 33,000 feet. As he orbited and climbed upward, he was struck by words he had read in another poem — “To touch the face of God.” He completed his verse soon after landing. It never fails to move both of us and you can truly imagine the feelings of freedom as he ‘chased the shouting wind along’.
Thank you Saymber for reminding us both of this special poem.
Flight – by John Gillespie Magee Jr.
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds- and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of- wheeled and soard and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there
I’ve chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless hails of air.
Up, up the long delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
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