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Wednesday, February 5, 2014

February Psalm

We shoveled ourselves out by 4:30 today, in the feeble sunshine, just in time for night to fall. I say "feeble sunshine" in contrast to the "feeble winter" of another February in Sam Rasnake's fine poem "February Psalm," up today at Escape Into Life. Because this particular winter's not a feeble one. The art by Chris Ballantyne is gorgeous and scary at once, you'll see!

Well, you can see a bit of it above. We have white roofs around here, and our own roof has a drift like a curling wave on it--a surfer's wave, or Camille Claudel's wave. It's all quite wondrous. But there's been a wave of grief, too. All around me, friends are losing their fathers. It's a very hard winter for some. "So," as Emily Dickinson has said, "let us keep fast hold of hands, please, that when the birds begin, none of us be missing!"

4 comments:

  1. Sam Rasnake's poem really hit me in the gut. So many winter trips as my dad fell and fell and finally drifted and disappeared.

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  2. I WAS thinking about you when I read Sam Rasnake's poems. Not about you being gut punched (me in denial?) but about the amazing universality of particular experience. Love to you. And to Sam Rasnake.

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  3. Yes, winter is a tough time for the elderly. Not just the cold, but harder for them to get enough vitamin D from sun exposure.

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  4. Thanks for you kind reminder. Lately, at least the sun has been shining!--on the bright snow and in the bitter cold.

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