Change Me

After a night and a day of howling, roaring, shrieking wind-  wind strong enough to throw full garbage cans of recycling out into the street,  strong enough to bend trees double and rattle the bedframe in the bedroom through the walls-  the sky has torn open to robin’s egg blue and brilliant sun, and the mewing of seagulls circling overhead on the wing.

The Wheel is turning.

His Name is Athansor

The horse beneath me seemed
To know what course to steer
Through the horror of snow I dreamed,
And so I had no fear,

Nor was I chilled to death
By the wind’s white shudders, thanks
To the veils of his patient breath
And the mist of sweat from his flanks.

It seemed that all night through,
Within my hand no rein
And nothing in my view
But the pillar of his mane,

I rode with magic ease
At a quick, unstumbling trot
Through shattering vacancies
On into what was not,

Till the weave of the storm grew thin,
With a threading of cedar-smoke,
And the ice-blind pane of an inn
Shimmered, and I awoke.

How shall I now get back
To the inn-yard where he stands,
Burdened with every lack,
And waken the stable-hands

To give him, before I think
That there was no horse at all,
Some hay, some water to drink,
A blanket and a stall?

—The Ride by Richard Wilbur

Highlights from the D.C. Trip

Road Trip: Introducing Church to Gloria. See, you laughed about her heated seats…

Yoko’s clarinet performance: of “light classical music”, both solo and in conjunction with violin, piano and organ, at a local Presbyterian church with a happy, welcoming congregation. Damn she’s good! (And no ninjas attacked her this time.)

Drinks and food afterwards: What a relief to let Lipby and Gyllipus solve the problems of the universe for a change, while I got to giggle and chat. When YOU order your French Fries with mayonnaise, I’ll order the hot toddy. Just turn off the reggaeton so I can hear. Read the rest of this entry »