Batter my heart, three-person’d God By John Donne Batter my heart, three-person’d God, for youAs yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me, and bendYour force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.I, like an usurp’d town to another due,Labor to admit you, but oh, to […]

Yesterday I raked leaves. It was August 25. A little soon I thought for Fall. We have almost a month left of summer so why all the leaf meal? Dolly Parton died today and the world wept for a country singer with a heart of gold. It was another reminder that “tempus fugit.” I wrote

Moderation is so bland. Yes it is necessary for balance, equilibrium and sanity most of the time, however every once in a while I could do with an over abundance or a too much of a good thing day. I love this quotation from Oscar Wilde. “Everything in moderation including moderation.” Mostly I follow the

I know there is a poem out there that encourages older women to wear purple, a red hat and defiance. Well maybe they don’t actually wear defiance unless it’s a facial expression. Perhaps this is that poem. I’ve always hated it. I will never purposely wear something that identifies me with a mindset and certainly

Mending Wall Something there is that doesn’t love a wall. That sends the frozen-grown-swell under it, And spills the upper boulders in the sun…. Robert Frost I know the poem is about “Good fences making good neighbours” or maybe it’s about freedom – not building walls or fences at all. However, for me it’s about

For rainy day people, maybe, although this is not a Gordon Lightfoot song. It is a forgotten poem, now remembered, from another one of my favourite poets. I often refer to my favourites – Dylan Thomas, W. B Yeats, Gerard Manly Hopkins and e.e.cummings as wordsmiths. They hammer out the most delicate poetry from the

The Land of Heart’s Desire (somewhat)Come Fairies, take me out of thisdull world, for I would ride withyou upon the wind and danceupon the mountains like a flame!W. B. Yeats. W. B. Yeats is one of my favourite poets. Today I went for coffee with a friend. We talked of keeping diaries (weblogs) and what

Today the sky was the colour of ballpark mustard. I decided not to ask the score. I was a little concerned though and thought of calling a neighbour because maybe this is the apocalypse and I had somehow missed the notice. You know that generic letter from an unnamed source which starts: Dear Resident of

I live this poem often in the evenings when I sit in my garden after dinner and read, listen to music or just marvel at the “inventions of summer.” Right now, I’m reading another walking book “A Time of Gifts.” It’s the first of a trilogy by Patrick Leigh Fermor, who walked in 1933 at

Today was a difficult day. I had to work at being happy. Yesterday I walked 15kms with a group of pilgrims. The Camino has been calling. It starts quietly without pressure. I think March might be a good month. It’s vague; nothing has been formulated. Today I think that maybe I could go for three