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Tuesday 10 February 2009

from Cold Spring - a Diary -- by Beyond the Pale



12th day

Spring wind
loosened her kimono
from her legs.
Nature no respecter of persons
in the spring wind,
has opened
her shop.
The spring wind
blows through the balustrade.





15th day

A sound from far away.
Days of mist and haze.
May well feel bored and listless.
Wouldn't really know
a glowworm from a lantern
floating on top of a boat
through the dark spring haze.


.
19th day

Today also,
living in the haze —
a large house
under the redwoods,
a lost man
passing in the mists,
many cars
going by like boats.
Faces without names,
shrouded in a mist.



26th day

A long day.
My eyes are weary.
O, the days that are no more.
So glad they're over.
The cat drifts in sleep
beneath the sound
of the spring wind
in the redwoods.
The raccoons rumble on the roof.



27th day

The morning expedition.
Baby sparrow
under the sink
leaks little chirps.
Mind in the way.
Mr. Worm is coming.







30th day

When I felt the spring rain
falling on my head
through the hole in the roof
I went out into the garden
knelt down
shed stupid tears
at the foot of the century tree
smelled things under the ground
turning to mulch
then went back inside
and listened to the distant sound
of ocean waves
pounding against the shore
in the spring rain.

21 comments:

Anonymous said...

Thanks, Zeph, for causing the cold winter rain to feel a bit more springlike...

mishari said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
mishari said...

Jesus..."this post has been removed by the author" makes it sound as if I'd posted some horrible remark and then thought better of it. Actually, I'd just mis-spelt 'illustration'. So here's the post again...

Have you really seen damselflys already, zeph? No matter. Charming illustrations and words.

Anonymous said...

Misha, Thanks. I did indeed see the dragonflies--and most of the other critters I've drawn in this Diary-- but not this year, alas. (Still drenched and shivering where I am...)

mishari said...

My apologies, BTP. I hadn't noticed that the post was your work.

Actually, I did mean 'have you seen them recently?' thinking the work was zeph's, who I know lives not far from me and damned if I've seen any.

Anonymous said...

let me come back to this with more time. What I feel just the now is, those pictures are Wolf Brother, and brilliant, and I am put in the mood for Spring Rain
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5CRiS8bRTw

And to be reminded of The Go Betweens is sad but also so joyful.

Anonymous said...

Mimi,

Eerie synchronicity linking your moving comment with the movements of the elements here, The Go Betweens seeming to have triggered a fresh torrential downpour: cold front swooping down from the Far North, darkened sky "falling down like sheets of rain... When will change come?"

Was Grant McL. then perhaps another Listener, offering his heart's blood to the World Spirit to save the forest? (Tall order that.)

"O those days that are no more..."

Found some beautiful animals, real and totemic, in this Wolf Brother clip ("listen to the rain/ here it comes again...hear my name in the rain"):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CYAy0mhslpw

Anonymous said...

BtP: great clip. And I guess you must know of the Wolf Brother - there is only the one World Spirit.
You've read the books?

Anonymous said...

Mimi,

I've looked into the series and like the concept: save life in the forest, before it's too late. Little chance, but why not have a try. And too, the idea is pitched to my age group--second childhood ("Last scene of all that ends this strange eventful history...sans everything"). Never too old to try to get the picture, maybe?

Anonymous said...

The Wolf Brother series is just such a wonderful set of books and makes you think.


there is so much to marvel at and make you think. Aimed at children but adults should read and learn.

Anonymous said...

Mimi,

Night of the Typhoon here--mama there's wolves in the house/they tumble and fight/blazing with light/and they're beautiful.

My top six wolves, in order:

1940s chinook sled dogs in snow
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jH3C8FyHsIk&feature=related

wolves--shanifawni home ukulele version
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7-vJyk6Evw0&feature=related

wolves--astonishing undernourished spencer ableman version
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OXYcoZsXx-4&feature=related

phosphorescent wolves live in london
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRAbeeoLQwY&feature=related

wolves--music video (phosphorescent)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jXxfZhnA0zo&feature=related

wolves--surreal version
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KusIi4Y8QLo&feature=related

Anonymous said...

There is a picture
On this site

Cat sleeping
Looks just like a picture
My niece drew
10 years ago

My Tig sleeping

26th Day
The cat watches but
My Tig sleeps

He sleeps mostly, being old

Wakes, unsure where he is
Howls, frightened
A sad sound

At night
In the hours of darkness
All fears are there

Tig searches for his own place
Security

Then sleeps
Cat sleeping

Anonymous said...

Mimi,

Lovely and sad, what with the memories I'm sure go with it.

May all our old tigers someday find that safe and secure sleeping place.

Anonymous said...

Mimi,

Your sad/sweet poem about the old Tiger affected me all through a long rainy day and eventually upon reflection put me in mind not only of a couple of old and ailing cats presently with us but of several bygone feline companions laid to rest out in the muddy ground upon which the rain now pours down...

But too such sad reflections bring to mind another somewhat braver way of considering such matters, suggested some years ago in the comment of an older poet friend, much given to cats as companions, who wrote in a letter, "Cats allow us to share our lives with them, and in return, share our lives with us. The burden is ours for the joy and privilege."

I've found that bracing. The luck is ours. (As also inevitably are our sadnesses.)

It occurs to me to enquire whether you know the book Ring of Bright Water by Gavin Maxwell--or the film made from it? The animal companion in that case not a cat but a river otter, brought, as I recall, from Iraq to live in and, less happily in the end, out of, the waters of your part of the world...

Anonymous said...

beyond: thanks for kind comments about my small Tig poem and the comforting thought about sharing lives. My furs have certainly been great comfort over the 18 years we've so far had.

Regarding Ring of Bright Water - I knew the book and film as a child and not so long ago got the DVD. Watched it a few months ago with my sister just after we'd unsuccessfully been otter-watching on Skye and was pleasantly surprised that it doesn't feel at all dated. Still had the power to make me cry, more than once. Love it.

Anonymous said...

Mimi,

Pleased to hear your experience with revisiting Ring of Bright Water--much like ours.

The otter such a magnificent product of... what do they call it, Creation? Nature?

In this region the saltwater sea otter once swam, but with the coming of White World business after Cook, the $100 pricetag on their pelts at the Canton market drove Boston entrepreneurs to lure the Northwest Coast native hunters, in exchange for a few bits of copper, to hunt them virtually to extinction.

(This piece is set in the Hunting Times, c. 1800:)

Mild

They're easy together
inside the pod
when there's no hunting
the yelp of the little
ones is not heard
on good days
when the weather is mild they move
like the vowels in the word
repose
off shore to browse
among sea
urchin and mussel
encrusted submerged reefs
or in drifting patches of
floating kelp
_______________

Anonymous said...

That's lovely.

In summer I have been known to get myself to Spey Bay at dawn, and there you can see the otters at play. For all the mornings they are not there, one sighting and you go on your way singing and laughing and rather stupidly doing the "what what what what" sort of noise that Bill Travers does in Ring when he's talking to Mij.

I'm not sure where you write from, but recently read a book called Voyageurs about the workers who paddled the canoes for the fur companies in Canada in the 19th century. I flinched when otter pelts were discussed.

Anonymous said...

Curled cat
Shhh
Don't wake the fur

Sleeping close by while I read
and type

That's my boy, Tig fur
Head tucked into paws
And just twitching
A little with dreams

Now bedtime
I gather up the fur
To take him to safety

A little fuurup of purr

Waking but not knowing

Dear fur

Stay safe

Anonymous said...

Mimi,

"A little fuurup of purr" to seal the dream. Beautiful.

Anonymous said...

Thanks btp.

Tigs is enjoying a rare treat of catnip tonight.

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