I missed Poetry Friday last week. If you did too, check it out at Tanita Davis's {fiction, instead of lies}. The Poetry Pals used Jane Hirshfield's "Two Versions" as a mentor poem and crafted their own takes (inspired by Hirshfield's theme, structure, or lines). They created some stunners, so do hop over and read your way through those beauties.
This week, Carol at The Apples in My Orchard is hosting. Carol has been caring for her aging father, spending 16½ hours on the road (in one day!) and dealing with a lot (I see you, Carol!) Send her some virtual hugs and love today and enjoy all the poetry she's rounded up for us here.
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I missed PF last week because we spent Thursday and Friday out of town. My daughter and her husband hosted Thanksgiving. My middle daughter, whom I blog-named "Betsy Ray" (after our beloved Betsy in Maud Hart Lovelace's Betsy-Tacy books) was nine years old when I started this blog in late 2005. She was NINE. And now she and her husband are killing it as Thanksgiving hosts. We had a marvelous day and a marvelous meal. (I told her to marry a man who cooks, and she did. Yay!) The only parts of the meal we provided were the pumpkin pie (my mom's extra-spice recipe), gluten-free/dairy-free biscuits, and gf/df chocolate chip cookies. Anne-with-an-e (who was twelve when I started the blog — TWELVE!) and her fiance brought the dairy-free mashed potatoes, which Ramona (who was THREE when I started the blog) pronounced the best ever. When she was three, she didn't like "mashed-potatoes-with-the-skin-on, eww" but her culinary palate expanded over the years. Sadly for her, a few years back, just as she was perfecting the ultimate pepperjack grilled cheese sandwich with marinara dipping sauce, she needed to go gf/df, as Betsy had to a few years before. We're still working on perfecting the gf/df diet but overall we've made huge progress.
Aaaaaanyway...that's where I was last week. Enjoying the many pleasures of spending time with all my favorite people. Counting gifts and blessings. Giving thanks for beauty seen and unseen. "Looking at the Sky" and getting my thirst for a touch of heaven quenched. (Stealing the imagery of a thirst quenched from the last line of the poem. It's a short and perfect piece.)
Looking at the Sky
by Anne Porter
I never will have time
I never will have time enough
To say
How beautiful it is
The way the moon
Floats in the air
As easily
And lightly as a bird
Although she is a world
Made all of stone.
....
(Read the second part here.)
14 comments:
Beautiful poem, Karen. Thank you for sharing it. Wishing you a blessed Advent! Your Ramona is the same age as my son. The mind, it boggles, no!?
Karen, thank you for the lovely poem. I am making a wish that time will be on my side this coming year. I enjoyed reading about your Thanksgiving event with family. I was all set to write my Two Versions poem for #PoetryPals when we had to drive to Long Island and back in two days for a dear friend's funeral. Life is fragile and uncertain. Enjoy preparing for the holidays.
Elli, it does indeed boggle the mind! :)
Carol, I'm so sorry you lost a dear friend — deepest sympathies!
Thank you for introducing me to this beautiful poem. I'm printing it out for my poems that inspire folder!
Sarah, I'm so happy it inspired you! Porter wrote some truly lovely poems. Her first collection was published when she was 83. That's also inspiring!
Having another lovely poem that shows how much nature does for us is wonderful, Karen. I've often thought that not being able to go outside, as in prisoners and a few other examples, is punishment above all else. Even in evenings, tired from the day, I can't not be outside for some peeks and adventures. Yes, the children are growing, and now I can say that about my grands, too! Yikes! Thanks for the family-love post! And, after the poem, the part about penicillin's first try was great to read!
"Nature as balm" has kind of been a needed theme, hasn't it, Linda? I had to go back and look at what you meant about the penicillin, because I hadn't even scrolled down to the fact of the day, lol. Yes, that is great to read today! I just shared it with my daughter too. Thanks for pointing me to something great on the page I pointed you to. ;)
Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem, Karen. But, I really enjoyed the personal side of your post today, explaining your Thanksgiving with your now adult daughters and their significant others! My oldest son turned 30 this year! THIRTY (I know you won't mind the caps). How did that happen! While we didn't get to see him for Thanksgiving as he recently moved to Colorado, our middle son - TWENTY-FIVE - flew to my Dad's house from MN to NY to spend the holiday and long weekend with us. Family is everything. Thanks for sharing stories about yours!
I'm glad your family is full of clever cooks! Having dietary restrictions does encourage thinking outside the box. Thanks for the delightful Anne Porter poem. xo
Carol, yes, I understand and support the CAPITALS! :D My oldest is 31, my middle is 28, and my youngest is 22. Eeeek! And yay. :) I love having adult kids!
Tabatha, I'm glad you liked it. Yes, we think outside of a lot of food boxes. It's gotten easier over the years. I remember when I used to see people who had to eat gf for medical reasons and I thought, "Oh, our family could never do that. I wouldn't know where to start." But I learned. :)
Anne Porter's poem is an ode to the simple pleasure of appreciating nature's wonder. Such beauty never ceases to amaze and beguile we mere mortals. Thanks for the reminder, Karen.
How lovely that your girls have turned into the women that you so enjoy spending time (and feasting!) with! There's never enough time, as Anne Porter writes, but if we slow down and pay attention to THIS moment (even as we look back with astonishment at how we got here), it seems like we do have Everything.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem. I will be pasting it in my notebook. And learning that Anne Porter was 83 when she first published is amazing and hopeful.
* Alan, nature's wonder is beguiling indeed.
* Mary Lee, yes, staying in the moment (while appreciating that astonishment) is a gift.
*Rose, I'm glad it's a keeper for you. The story of Porter's writing is so lovely.
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