FINIS
The grave my little cottage is,
Where 'Keeping house' for thee
I make my parlor orderly
And lay the marble tea.
For two divided, briefly,
A cycle, it may be,
Till everlasting life unite
In strong society.
~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
I hope to reunite with more than just one other. Many.
ReplyDeleteI do believe that in some mysterious way those of us who have cared for one another, and at least tried to faprecite and ind the good in each other will always be together in spirit if not materially, Kid.
DeleteFr instance I had very little contact with our l
ate friend Imp, but over the years I could SENSE the support and encouragement he gave me, and it WAS helpful.
One meets very few true friends in life, but those who qualify are more precious than diamondsa, rubies and gold.
IMP was that kind of guy to Many of us Franco. I'm also talking about the furry children we've had...
ReplyDeleteBTW - Won't hurt anyone at this point for me to say but IMP was a former airline pilot, executive jet pilot and master photographer. Very smart fellow too. His name is Tom.
ReplyDeleteTrump WINS AGAIN
ReplyDeleteBIARRITZ, France (AP) — President Donald Trump, under pressure to scale back a U.S.-China trade war partly blamed for a global economic slowdown, claimed Monday that the two sides will begin serious negotiations soon.
I took my Power in my Hand ––
ReplyDeleteAnd went against the World ––
'Twas not so much as David –– had ––
But I –– was twice as bold ––
I aimed by Pebble –– but Myself
Was all the one that fell ––
Was it Goliath –– was too large ––
Or was myself –– too small?
~ Emily Dickinson (1830-186)
~
PROSPERO:
ReplyDeleteOur revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
~ Shakespeare - The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, 148–158
____ The Darkling Thrush ___
ReplyDeleteI leant upon a coppice gate
___ When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
___ The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
___ Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
___ Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
___ The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
___ The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
___ Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
___ Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
___ The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
___ Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
___ In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
___ Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
___ Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
___ Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
___ His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
___ And I was unaware.
~ Thomas Hardy (1840-1928)
Honi soit qui mal y pense ––
ReplyDeleteForever, not just for the nonce.
He who bites The Hand That Feeds
Soon finds it is HIMSELF who bleeds!
Destroy Advantage for The Bosses,
And we ALL will suffer losses.
Actions based on Mindless Spite
Lead to a life in Endless Night.
~ Franco Aragosta, il pescatore saggio
Let us pray for those affected by Hurricane Dorian. It has already weakened to a Category 4 with winds at 145 mph. Last night it was a Category 5 with 22o mph winds, so thngs MAY turn out well for potential victims, but prayers are still needed, perhaps more than ever.
ReplyDeleteIf God can't believe that WE care about one another, why should HE care anout us?