HANNA'S WALK

Impressions from January

Old trees are like living cairns.

We can learn a lot from trees: they’re always grounded but never stop reaching heavenward.
Everett Mayor

Didn’t I warn you?

Did I forget to warn you about
The physical well-being
The feeling of happiness
The joy
And of course
The urge for repetition
Even when it rains like today.

When the buzzard flies low over my head.
When a city person sits on the river bank in the pouring rain with his briefcase under the umbrella.
When a flock of starlings are exercising over the meadow.
When a pair of swans are wearing goggles. They certainly have their heads under water.
When the blackbird sits in the hedge humming spring songs in the middle of January.

Didn’t I warn you about being addicted to nature?

The tranquillity of heaven

You’ll wait a long, long time for anything much
To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud
And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves.
The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch,
Nor strike out fire from each other nor crash out loud.
The planets seem to interfere in their curves
But nothing ever happens, no harm is done.
We may as well go patiently on with our life,
And look elsewhere than to stars and moon and sun
For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane.
It is true the longest drought will end in rain,
The longest peace in China will end in strife.
Still it wouldn’t reward the watcher to stay awake
In hopes of seeing the calm of heaven break
On his particular time and personal sight.
That calm seems certainly safe to last to-night.

Robert Frost – West-Running Brook, 1928

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