rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Out of Time

I do believe time is flying. Now that the clocks have sprung forward, eight o'clock sneaks up on me. This is surely a conspiracy of the hours to make me prepare my dinner late, and to compress the remainder of the evening into something hectic. Had it not been for the hours leaping about, I'd have already spent the better part of one watching Jupiter and Aldebaran having their close encounter with the moon. As it is, I'll have to cut my viewing short if I'm to eat before nine o'clock.

This afternoon I noticed a bunch of small hyacinths popping up alongside the driveway. I don't remember them being there last year, and I certainly haven't planted anything there, so either the wind or the birds must have planted them for me. It's like the patch of bluebells that appeared in the back yard a couple of years ago, and all that lamb's ear which appeared the year before and has been spreading hither and yon since. Volunteer plants are always welcome in my yard, as long as they don't have any parts that will stick to cat fur (I'm looking at you, foxtails and nettles.)

Oh, and the Bermuda grass wasn't welcome either, but it's too late to do anything about that. Most of the front lawn has already been displaced by it, and the back lawn will probably be almost half Bermuda grass this year. I wouldn't mind seeing the bluebells and lamb's ear and hyacinths displace some of that invader grass, but that probably won't happen.

Anyway. Where was I? Oh, right, I was being late. Time to watch the moon and then fix dinner.




Sunday Verse



The Moor


by R.S. Thomas


It was like a church to me.
I entered it on soft foot.
Breath held like a cap in the hand.
It was quiet.
What God was there made himself felt,
Not listened to, in clean colours
That brought a moistening of the eye,
In movement of the wind over grass.

There were no prayers said. But stillness
Of the heart's passions - that was praise
Enough; and the mind's cession
Of its kingdom. I walked on,
Simple and poor, while the air crumbled
And broke on me generously as bread.

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