Leaves Turning

Amazing Autumnal Photography by Jay Beets
Leaves

1

Every October it becomes important, no, necessary
to see the leaves turning, to be surrounded
by leaves turning; it's not just the symbolism,
to confront in the death of the year your death,
one blazing farewell appearance, though the irony
isn't lost on you that nature is most seductive
when it's about to die, flaunting the dazzle of its
incipient exit, an ending that at least so far
the effects of human progress (pollution, acid rain)
have not yet frightened you enough to make you believe
is real; that is, you know this ending is a deception
because of course nature is always renewing itself —
the trees don't die, they just pretend,
go out in style, and return in style: a new style.

2

Is it deliberate how far they make you go
especially if you live in the city to get far
enough away from home to see not just trees
but only trees? The boring highways, roadsigns, high
speeds, 10-axle trucks passing you as if they were
in an even greater hurry than you to look at leaves:
so you drive in terror for literal hours and it looks
like rain, or snow, but it's probably just clouds
(too cloudy to see any color?) and you wonder,
given the poverty of your memory, which road had the
most color last year, but it doesn't matter since
you're probably too late anyway, or too early —
whichever road you take will be the wrong one
and you've probably come all this way for nothing.

3

You'll be driving along depressed when suddenly
a cloud will move and the sun will muscle through
and ignite the hills. It may not last. Probably
won't last. But for a moment the whole world
comes to. Wakes up. Proves it lives. It lives —
red, yellow, orange, brown, russet, ocher, vermilion,
gold. Flame and rust. Flame and rust, the permutations
of burning. You're on fire. Your eyes are on fire.
It won't last, you don't want it to last. You
can't stand any more. But you don't want it to stop.
It's what you've come for. It's what you'll
come back for. It won't stay with you, but you'll
remember that it felt like nothing else you've felt
or something you've felt that also didn't last.

by Lloyd Schwartz

Copyright © 1992 by Lloyd Schwartz
From Goodnight, Gracie
(The University of Chicago Press, 1992)

Jay Beets: Sunrise Color

Like a Bubble

"Only the dream that we knew it was . . . "
by Missouri Photographer Jay Beets

What would it take to make us think
differently of the world surrounding us?
What change of perspective
would lead to a fuller appreciation of its splendor?
What if the Sun were as tiny and transparent as a bubble?
What if we held our thumbs up to the moon? It's no bigger!
What if there were but one sunrise in every century?
What if the Earth were only a few feet in diameter?

If The Earth Were Only a Few Feet in Diameter
[click to hear a recitation]

More Beautiful Bubble Pictures by Jay Beets
I couldn't pick a favorite! I love them all!

John Denver ~ in love with the world.
[Click for song and slideshow!]

Hue, Value, Intensity

Molton Silver
photo by Jay Beets

"The sun was sinking, a red ball which threw a copper glow over the pine - covered ridge of mountains, and edged that inky, ominous cloud with molten silver."

~ Willa Cather ~
Death Comes For the Archbishop, 119

Dazzling, Lambent
photo by Jay Beets

“The sea is not always blue. . . . In the evening a much more dazzling color may emerge. A wave that feels the bottom, crests and topples will release a phosphorescent surf of pale green or red hue. This glowing, advancing surf can be stunning, like lambent lightning across the sky or a rainbow on the horizon.”
~ Wesley Marx ~

What we learned in art class:
Hue, Value, Intensity

Lazy Hazy Days

Photos by Jay Beets
End of July & Beginning of August

Ah, yes, "the winds must come" --
a poem for the passing summer days . . .

If I Could Tell You

Time will say nothing but I told you so,
Time only knows the price we have to pay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

If we should weep when clowns put on their show,
If we should stumble when musicians play,
Time will say nothing but I told you so.

There are no fortunes to be told, although,
Because I love you more than I can say,
If I could tell you I would let you know.

The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,
There must be reasons why the leaves decay;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.

Perhaps the roses really want to grow,
The vision seriously intends to stay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

Suppose all the lions get up and go,
And all the brooks and soldiers run away;
Will Time say nothing but I told you so?
If I could tell you I would let you know.

Wystan Hugh Auden (1907-1973)

Now & Then Post
Huckleberry Summertime

May the summer reverie
continue through August & September!

I hope you will enjoy the remains of summer
while I take a break from Quotidian Posts.
See you in the Fall -- sometime after Labor Day!

Before the trees change, I'll be back . . .

Thanks to my friend Jay Beets
for the heart-stopping seasonal photos,

and to my friend, author and artist Jan Donley
for reminding me that Auden's poem
is a villanelle -- not a pantoum.

You can check above
for these specific characteristics:

A villanelle = 19 lines
5 tercets (3-line stanzas) and a final quatrain (4-line stanza)

it uses two rhymes (A & B)
and two repeating lines:

the first line of the 1st stanza becomes
the last line of the 2nd and 4th stanzas;

the third line of the 1st stanza becomes
the last line of the 3rd and 5th stanzas.

These two repeated lines
form the final two lines of the concluding quatrain.

"These sanctified and holy days . . .

. . . when clear skies ring with notes of praise . . . "
from "The Rose in my Side Yard"
by Tony Brown

A stargazer by any other name . . .
~ Photo by Jay Beets ~

See More
Poetry by Tony Brown
& Photography by Jay Beets

@The Fortnightly Kitti Carriker
A literary blog of connection & coincidence;
custom & ceremony

*************

Silhouette

Click to read: Tony Brown's Last Lines #11 ~ #17

&

"Morning Glow"

Click to read: Tony Brown's Last Lines #18 ~ #23

Take Me to the Fair!

"True Americana Evening"
~ by Jay Beets ~

"Take Me to the Fair"
Humorous, punful, playful lyrics
from the musical / movie Camelot
~ click to see / hear Vanessa Regrave's rendition ~

GUENEVERE
(spoken)
Sir Lionel!
(sung)
Do you recall the other night that I distinctly said you might
Serve as my escort at the next town fair?
Well, I'm afraid there's someone who I must invite in place of you
Someone who plainly is beyond compare
That Frenchman's power is more tremendous than I have e'er seen anywhere
And when a man is that tremendous
He, by right, should take me to the fair

SIR LIONEL
(spoken)
Your majesty, let me tilt with him and smite him!
Don't refuse me so abruptly, I implore!
Oh, give me the opportunity to fight him
And Gaul will be divided once more!

GUENEVERE
You'll bash and thrash him?

SIR LIONEL
I'll smash and mash him.

GUENEVERE
You'll give him trouble?

SIR LIONEL
He will be rubble.

GUENEVERE
A mighty whack?

SIR LIONEL
His skull will crack.

GUENEVERE
Well...
(sung)
Then you may take me to the fair
If you do all the things you promise
In fact, my heart would break should you not take me to the fair
(spoken)
Sir Sagramore!
(sung)
I have some rather painful news relative to the subject who's
To be beside me at the next court ball
You were the chosen one, I know, but as tradition it should go
To the unquestioned champion in the hall
And I'm convinced that splendid Frenchman can easily conquer one and all
And besting all our local henchmen
He should sit beside me at the ball

SIR SAGRAMORE
(spoken)
I beg of you, ma'am, withhold your invitation.
I swear to you this challenge will be met.
And when I have finished up the operation,
I'll serve him to your highness en brochette!

GUENEVERE
You'll pierce right through him?

SIR SAGRAMORE
I'll barbecue him!

GUENEVERE
A wicked thrust?

SIR SAGRAMORE
'Twill be dust to dust!

GUENEVERE
From fore to aft?

SIR SAGRAMORE
He'll feel a draft!

GUENEVERE
Well then...
(sung)
You may sit by me at the ball
If you demolish him in battle
In fact, I know I'd cry were you not by me at the ball
(spoken)
Sir Dinadan!
(sung)
Didn't I promise that you may guide me to London on the day
That I go up to judge the cattle show?
As it is quite a nasty ride there must be someone at my side
Who'll be defending me from beast and foe
So when I choose whom I prefer go, I take the strongest knight I know
And young du Lac seems strongest, ergo
He should take me to the cattle show

SIR DINADAN
(spoken)
Your Majesty can't believe this blustering prattle-
Let him prove it with a sword or lance instead!
I promise you, when I've done this Gaul in battle
His shoulders will be lonesome for his head!

GUENEVERE
You'll disconnect him?

SIR DINADAN
I'll vivisect him.

GUENEVERE
You'll open-wide him?

SIR DINADAN
I'll subdivide him.

GUENEVERE
Oh, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear.
(sung)
Then you may guide me to the show
If you can carry out your program
In fact, I'd grieve inside should you not guide me to the show

SIRS LIONEL, SAGRAMORE, DINADAN
Milady, we shall put an end to that Galic bag of noise and nerve
When we do all that we intend to
He'll be a plate of French hors d'ouvres!

GUENEVERE
I do applaud your noble goals
Now let us see if you achieve them
And if you do, then you will be the three who go to the ball, to the show
And take me to the fair

These brilliant summer photographs remind me
of how much we all used to love the carnival and
wait for it to come every year!
I always thought that the swings
-- sometimes called The Merry Mix - Up --
were the best ride ever!
~ taken by my friend, Missouri photographer Jay Beets ~

P.S.

September 20, 2013
Magical picture taken by Rita Konertz-Lee
at the Celeberate St. Peter's Fair (Missouri)

July 25, 2019
USPS ~ State & County Fair Stamps

August 5, 2023
The Long Long Summertime

Red Flash, Green Flash

Missouri photographer Jay Beets says,
"The crazy color of Fall!
. . . I saw a tree face this morning."
Could it be Abraham Lincoln? Or the Man in the Moon?"

I posted this painting early last autumn . . .

First sign of fall: the rogue / rouge tree!

In the Bois du Boulogne, 1933
by Camille Bombois, 1883 - 1970

and just knew that I was going to have to repost
when I saw these photographs that my friend Jay took
at the end of last season ~ 2 November 2013:

Life Imitates Art!
Jay's photos are also a perfect match for this poem by Derek Walcott:

The Green Flash

le rayon vert

And the sea’s skin heaves, saurian,
and the spikes of the agave bristle
like a tusked beast bowing to charge
tonight the full moon will soar floating
without any moral or simile
the wind will bend the longbows of the arching casuarinas
the lizard will still scuttle
and the sun will sink silently with a stake in its eye
bleeding behind the shrouding sail
of a skeletal schooner.
You can feel the earth cooling,
you can feel its myth cooling
and watch your own heart go out like the red throbbing dot
of a hospital machine, with a green flash
next to Pigeon Island.

by Derek Walcott, b. 1930
Saint Lucian poet and playwright; professor at the University of Essex
1992 Nobel Prize Recipient
author, most recently, of White Egrets
[see also "Love After Love"]

Thanks again to Jay
for these amazing flashes of red and green!

Days of Optimism

Another great autumnal photograph by Jay Beets!
Thanks Jay for sharing so many & for allowing me to re - post!

****************
Everyone loves a day filled with optimism! Back in mid - August, Jay and I were reminiscing about a mutual acquaintance of ours from undergrad days who liked to refer to himself as a closet optimist. He said that his pessimism was just for show but in his heart he was an optimist!

Within an hour after my facebook chat with Jay, this post appeared, announcing good news from my friend Len:

"I am happy to have been notified that my poem "Optimist," from the Spring, 2014, issue of Rattle will be featured in their online edition this Fall. The editor has asked me to make an mp3 recording to accompany the posted poem. [He sent clear instructions so I am not requesting help at this time. I had a momentary vision of standing in front of a giant microphone as in O Brother, Where Art Thou? instead of my cell phone.] I am impressed by the support and generosity of Rattle and its editor, Tim Green. It stands apart from many others who publish the poems, send one or two contributor copies, and then there is no further contact or relationship. I will, of course, post a link here when the poem is up in October."

I knew then that when Len's poem appeared, I would have to write a blog post about this optimistic literary coincidence! Today's the day! And here's the poem:

OPTIMIST

Each time I vote, I pretend that this time
everything I hope for will take place, that
not only will everyone I vote for win,
but they will turn out more liberal than anyone
expected, that the evil half of the Supreme Court
will take a powder, wars will end, oil will die.
Every night, I visit your side of the bed
to pretend that you are just away for a moment,
it is warm from you and you will rush back to
place your head back on the pillow beside mine,
my nose nuzzling into your hair, to breathe you in,
my arms around you while you push sleepily
back into me, surrounded by my heat,
not fully waking by your brief absence,
and for some minutes I am whole again.

~ Leonard Orr
*******************

Thanks Len for multiple appearances on my blog:

End of Summer Sounds
Golden Paintings by Leonard Orr
Excellent Images
Happy Birthday Dylan Thomas
"The same war continues . . .
The Magpie Waiting for his Beautiful Partner
Like An Ant
Bursting Into Light
Sun ~ Flower ~ Moon
Lovely As A Tree
What To Do
Star - Spanlged But Unsingable
Evening ~ Timing ~ Floating Poetry by Leonard Orr
The Ides of Whatever
That Lost Time & Place
Truth & Falsehood Have No Fear

Something About the Sun

Back in the carefree days of driving
across the country from State to State,
when "corona" just meant something about the sun!

Thanks to my friends
Jay Beets
for this photo of Me & My Panama Bag ~ May 2017
&
Duo Dickinson
for his essay: "Coronal" ~ March 2020

"The lacerating tunes of our discord are great with us. Right now. . . .

"The sun is not just the sun, it is also the corona, beyond it. It is what it makes that it does not feed upon. No virus, however spherical and full of dark energy, makes that corona, But the corona of fear, of anger and angst is as real, until it goes away, because the virus simply has no hosts. It only has fear."

************

To calm the fear, it's cool these days to have
a Quarantine Playlist ~ here's mine:

Jay picked this one:
Scarborough Fair

Kinda feels like it:
Last Night of the World

Dawn or Doom?
In The Year 2525

This one keeps coming up:
Isn't Life Strange

Here's one for my brother Bruce:
We Got Paid by CASH

We're all waiting for this day:
The Unclouded Day

Sam taught me this one.
For my sibs: Dave, Peg, Bruce, Di, Aaron
Hey Brother

Another good one from Avicii -- thanks Sam:
Wake Me Up

For Victoria & Diane:
Moon River

Gerry's choice:
Whiter Shade of Pale

Keep clear of disease!
Things Have Reached a Pretty Pass

Yearning to mingle with the old time throng:
Give My Regards To Broadway

A Show Tune for Steven:
You'll Never Walk Alone - Judy Garland

Igor's suggestion: Staying Alive! Ah. Ah. Ah.
Staying Alive!

Another one from Jay:
Sold My Heart

My friend Megan reminded me of this one:
Both Sides Now

BBFF (Best Band Friends Forever):
Chicago - 25 Or 6 To 4

Haven't seen "Hamilton" yet? Now is the time:
Hamilton: The Musical (Animatic version)

Gonna be peace of mind for me . . .
One Of These Days

The whole album really:
Ammonia Avenue & Chernobyl, et. al.

The fear that . . . seems to never end . . .
as the cities start to crumble . . .
Rhymes & Reasons

Thanks to Curtis for this one:
If Peace Was All We Had

Revolutionaries wait for my head on a silver plate:
Coldplay - Viva La Vida

Everybody wants to rule the world . . . or do they?
Tears For Fears - Everybody Wants To Rule The World

As the last train rolled toward the moon . . .
Desert Moon

Again, the whole album:
Wasted Time

It seems the good they die young . . .
Abraham, Martin, and John

And lastly:
Coronavirus Rhapsody

************

Also:
Quarantine Reading List

And Previous Playlists:
Breakup ~ Duets ~ Forever Young

Hearing the Light, Seeing the Sound

Photo of a Missouri sunrise on the lake ~
by my old college classmate Jay Beets
When I saw this magical photo,
the words of Michael Nesmith's
equally magical song sprang instantly to mind:

[click song title to see / hear]
Rio
I'm hearing the light from the window,
I'm seeing the sound of the sea,
My feet have come loose from their moorings,
I'm feeling quite wonderfully free.

And I think I will travel to Rio
Using the music for flight,
There's nothing I know of in Rio,
But it's something to do with the night.
It's only a whimsical notion
To fly down to Rio tonight,
And I probably won't fly down to Rio,
But then again, I just might.

There's wings to the thought behind fancy,
There's wings to the thought behind play
And dancing to rhythms of laughter
Makes laughter the rhythm of rain.

So I think I will travel to Rio
Using the music for flight,
There's nothing I know of in Rio,
But it's something to do with the night.
It's only a whimsical notion
To fly down to Rio tonight,
And I probably won't fly down to Rio,
But then again, I just might.

I feel such a sense of well-being,
The problems have come to be solved,
And what I thought was proper for battle
I see now is proper for love.

So I think I will travel to Rio . . .

Reno? Why Reno?
Not Reno, dummy.
Rio, Rio de Janeiro.

Music & lyrics by Michael Nesmith
from the album: From a Radio Engine to the Photon Wing
and also featured in Elephant Parts

If you're not familiar with Elephant Parts, Nesmith's wacky collection of comedic sketches and early - day music videos, check it out on netflix and / or amazon. I first watched it in the summer of 1984, when I was visiting my sister Peg and her family in Germany. We couldn't stop laughing then; and, even today, we are still quoting all of our favorite lines . . . just to prove a point!

*************************************

Another June sunrise photographed by Jay ~
same horizon, different lighting.
Thanks Jay ~
for the use of your synaesthetic photography!
Northeast Missouri has never looked so good!

Lurking and Lingering

Photos above and below
by Missouri Photographer Jay Beets

Ray Bradbury: “It was a small town by a small river and a small lake in a small northern part of a Midwest state. There wasn't so much wilderness around you couldn't see the town. But on the other hand there wasn't so much town you couldn't see and feel and touch and smell the wilderness. The town was full of trees. And dry grass and dead flowers now that autumn was here. And full of fences to walk on and sidewalks to skate on and a large ravine to tumble in and yell across. . . . The ravine, filled with varieties of night sounds, lurkings of black-ink stream and creek, lingerings of autumns that rolled over in fire and bronze and died a thousand years ago" (from The Halloween Tree 3, 15, emphasis added).

Jay and I both agreed that, although Bradbury's story
is set in Illinois, it sure does sound like Kirksville, Missouri,
with our favorites: Thousand Hills Lake & The Chariton River!

Current Post on Kitti's List:
Mr. Pumpkin, Mr. Halloween & Mr. Moundshroud

For more Bradbury, see also
"Godspeed October" & "Day of the Dead"

My Country's Heart

Anthem
from the musical Chess
music by Benny Andersson & Björn Ulvaeus (formerly of ABBA)
lyrics by Tim Rice

performed by David Carrol
on the Original Broadway Cast Recording

No man, no madness
Though their sad power may prevail
Can possess, conquer, my country's heart
They rise to fail
She is eternal
Long before nations' lines were drawn
When no flags flew and no armies stood
My land was born

And you ask me why I love her
Through wars, death and despair
She is the constant, we who don't care
And you wonder will I leave her - but how?
I cross over borders but I'm still there now

How can I leave her?
Where would I start?
Let man's petty nations tear themselves apart
My land's only borders lie around my heart
(emphasis added)

Photographs above and below by Jay Beets

Last year on September 11th, Jay wrote:
"My twin towers...you see them in my pictures...my westward view...
concrete things made to store wheat and grain and corn...
ten years ago...towers of ideas were brought down...
by men who fear ideas...
I like these towers...don't mind if they get in my pictures...
from time to time...
9.11.11

Wheat

Corn

Amber Waves of Grain

Celtic Blessing

Photographs
by Jay Beets

Celtic Prayer and Blessing
from my friend The Rev. Nancy C. Tiederman
Nancy writes: "The origin and location of this prayer have escaped my memory. Perhaps I found it at the shrine for Saint David and St. David’s Cathedral. Or maybe I found it at the little church named for Saint Iltud in Wales. I do remember it came from a place on the Welsh Coast on the Irish Sea."

From the flowing of the tide to its ebbing
From the waxing of life to its waning
Of your peace provide us
Of your life lead us
Of your goodness give us
Of your grace grant us
Of your power protect us
Of your love lift us
And in your arms accept us
From the ebbing of the tide to its flowing
From the waning of life to its waxing

And this ~ kind of related ~
from "Josephine the Singer, or the Mouse Folk"
by Franz Kafka:
"Our life is very uneasy, every day brings surprises, apprehensions, hopes, and terrors, so that it would be impossible for a single individual to bear it all did we not always have by day and night the support of our fellows; but even so it often becomes very difficult; frequently as many as a thousand shoulders are trembling under a burden that was really meant only for one pair."

Rows of windows -- a good way to signify
the many burdens and the many shoulders . . . The Travelers Hotel ~ Kirksville, Missouri
Where My Grandmother Used to Work
~ Thanks for the photos Jay! ~

Vintage Postcard ~ The Travelers Hotel ~ Kirksville, Missouri

Tuesday Afternoon

Photography by Jay Beets
"The trees are drawing me near
I've got to find out why . . . "
A song for the Vernal Equinox ~ when it falls on a Tuesday:

Forever Afternoon (Tuesday?)
Tuesday afternoon
I'm just beginning to see
Now I'm on my way
It doesn't matter to me
Chasing the clouds away

Something calls to me
The trees are drawing me near
I've got to find out why*
Those gentle voices I hear
Explain it all with a sigh

I'm looking at myself reflections of my mind
It's just the kind of day to leave myself behind
So gently swaying through the fairyland of love
If you'll just come with me you'll see the beauty of
Tuesday afternoon

Tuesday afternoon
Tuesday afternoon
I'm just beginning to see
Now I'm on my way
It doesn't matter to me
Chasing the clouds away

Something calls to me
The trees are drawing me near
I've got to find out why
Those gentle voices I hear
Explain it all with a sigh

~ by Justin Hayward (b. 1946)
British musician, lead singer and guitarist for The Moody Blues

[*Could this be why: "If trees could build houses
they would build them out of our bones." ~ Michael Lipsey]

Whenever I hear anything from Days of Future Passed (1967), I always remember writing a letter to my friend and pen pal Jill in 1976. We had been in grade school together but gone to different highs schools and colleges. During the spring semester of our freshman year, no sooner had I written to tell her that I had just bought a copy of this album, than she wrote to me with the same news. It was such an odd coincidence, because it wasn't even a new album at the time, and we hadn't discussed it or anything. Just one of those funny synchronicities.

*******************
Although it took place on a Sunday not a Tuesday,
I also have to point out that
today is the wedding anniversary
of my maternal grandparents
Paul & Rovilla,
married 91 years ago today.

They were married 39 years.
Rovilla died in 1966; Paul in 1983.

Here they are in 1965

Gently Keen

Of his pre - autumnal photos,
Missouri Photographer Jay Beets writes:

"Everything is busy and changing in September
~ an amazing month!"

Gladys Taber writes:

"As summer wanes, we cherish every mild dreamy day.
I love the soft blue haze,
I know summer still walks the lanes,
but the frosty slipper of autumn is just behind.
We now get up early -- or what the books call betimes . . . " (132).

from Stillmeadow Daybook

Ruth Sawyer writes:

”Fall weather was the best
weather for making friends.
You met everybody coming or going;
met them alive and eager and made friendly
by the gently keen September air. . . .
There was a flooding of sunshine,
but the air had a knife's edge to it;
you could feel winter on its way" (32, 71).

from Roller Skates (emphasis added)

More Queen Anne's Lace

This Autumn

Autumn Mural in Philadelphia

"Even as it envelops me
it is not mine, this autumn:
that wind blowing through the pines,
I regret how it makes them fall --
the leaves, the scarlet leaves of ivy."

verse found on the back
of a Metropolitan Museum of Art greeting card
~ no name given ~

Detail from above mural
~ And ethereal fall photo from Jay Beets ~

The Grief that Saps the Mind

ON MEMORIAL DAY:
"Ring out the grief that saps the mind
for those that here we see no more."
~ Tennyson ~


Sign by Robert Montgomery, Post-Situationist Public Artist
Painted wood & solar-powered LED lights
De La Warr Pavillion, Bexhill, East Sussex
When it comes to "the grief that saps the mind," no one has described it better than my literary friend Lee Perron, in the following section of his poem, "From Desire, A Sequence" (fondly referred to in my family as "The Nose Poem"):

your mate dies, or parents
or one of your other friends
there is nothing fearful in the death
the deadman is not the problem
his letters perhaps
some phrase he spoke that rings every after
the way he died, what the surgeons did to his brain, or kidneys,
or heart
what you & he would have been doing now
next week, all summer long as you always did
the deadman did not die
your plans died
and this is what is so upsetting
this makes us so sick we cannot even think

~ Lee Perron

"Seasons of blankness" is Thomas Hardy's way to describe this upsetting, sickening sense of loss. Gerry's Auntie Margaret fondly refers to Hardy as "such as misery," which is true. Yet, his irony appeals to me: the things we want to stay are going; the things we want to go are staying. But just at the point where we might easily turn to cynicism, Hardy offers neutrality: yes, we lose the good things, the best things, the "prime"; but some of the mind - sapping grief dissipates as well.

The May Moon ~ We Wish It Would Stay!


Going and Staying

I

The moving sun-shapes on the spray,
The sparkles where the brook was flowing,
Pink faces, plightings, moonlit May,
These were the things we wished would stay;
But they were going.

II

Seasons of blankness as of snow,
The silent bleed of a world decaying,
The moan of multitudes in woe,
These were the things we wished would go;
But they were staying.

III

Then we looked closelier at Time,
And saw his ghostly arms revolving
To sweep off woeful things with prime,
Things sinister with things sublime
Alike dissolving.

~ Thomas Hardy ~


A Closlier Look at the Full Moon
~ Cosmic Photography by Jay Beets ~
[P.S. Closelier is Hardy's own special made - up word, so much better than just plain old closer.]

A closing thought
from The Fault in Our Stars
by John Green:

" . . . then I realized there was no one else to call,
which was the saddest thing.
The only person I really wanted to talk to about Augustus Waters's death was Augustus Waters. . . .
In the last weeks, we'd been reduced to spending our time together in recollection, but that was not nothing:
The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me,
because there was no longer anyone to remember with.
It felt like losing your co - rememberer
meant losing the memory itself,
as if the things we'd done were less real and important
than they had been hours before. (262)

Now, that's the grief that saps the mind . . .
the grief that makes us so sick we cannot even think . . .
See also my earlier post "Indifferent Universe"