Category Archives: poetry

I Met The Bard at La Casita

family, history, poetry, ,

Not long after I met my husband, I spent some time with his family at their cabin in the woods, a humble place called “La Casita.” Later on we took our honeymoon there, and over the years we often visited with our children, using the little house as a base for exploring the redwoods and the beach.

On the knotty pine walls were various odd and antique-y pictures and hangings, things that were too tattered or for some other reason didn’t fit the decor of people’s everyday homes, and one of those was a framed verse by Robert Burns.

Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some would eat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
Sae let the Lord be thankit.


I was charmed by the little yellowed plaque and the thought behind the verse, and always thought that I would like to embroider it to post in my own house. I never did that, and when the cabin was sold and the old hangings became available for the taking, I didn’t even take them. I think that verse had lodged itself in my mind and heart so firmly that the original sighting was superfluous.

Today is the birthday of the poet, a good day to hear him giving thanks and to say about him “let the Lord be thankit.”

Rain, Soup, and Someone

home, love, poetry, ,

Thanks to Maria, I found a poem that captures a little of how sweet it is to have rain splashing against windows — that is, if you have no lack of life’s other little or huge blessings, like a Beloved Someone for whom you can warm up a bowl of soup, as I did this evening for mine. I am the Empress.

THE EMPEROR

She sends me a text
she’s coming home
the train emerges
from underground

I light the fire under
the pot, I pour her
a glass of wine
I fold a napkin under
a little fork

the wind blows the rain
into the windows
the emperor himself
is not this happy

~ Matthew Rohrer

Oh, Wind!

architecture, poetry, quotes, ,

Right now the wind is blowing up a noisy gale outside.

It was just getting going this afternoon when Mr. Glad and I were taking a walk in an old neighborhood in a nearby town.  We like to look at the gardens and the houses, like this one that seems to have been a church at one time.

 

 

 

When we left the restaurant where we’d eaten a lunch of doner kebab and Turkish coffee, we crunched through leaves on the sidewalk, and took pictures of a tree we didn’t know.

Its graceful branches and smooth bark, holding up bright yellow leaves and pink flowers, put on a multi-layered show for us.

Mr. G. especially liked the door of this little white house…

…and I liked the way the tall green hedge in front of a large brick house had been trimmed so neatly as to frame the entrance like a picture. So I took a picture.

And that purple plant bordering the sidewalk…I think we have that at church, but I can’t remember its name. It’s the perfect complementing color.

Leaves began loosening from branches overhead and falling down on us, as the wind lifted my hair and stirred it into the mix. I had to watch my steps as we picked our way over frequent humps in the sidewalk caused by roots of trees with giant trunks, maybe older than the old houses.

On the drive back to our town the thermometer in the car told us it was 71°! My husband stopped by a store for a few minutes and I stayed in the car. I pulled out an old Bible that I keep stuck between the seats for times like this, and opened randomly in the Psalms, where I read,

Tremble, thou earth, at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob;
Which turned the rock into a standing water, the flint into a fountain of waters.

Return unto thy rest, O my soul: for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee.
For Thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling.

And it seemed that God was speaking from His written Word to elaborate on the exuberance of His presence in the wind and the trees, to remind me that the same Mover of winds is the keeper and Lover of my soul.

At least four poems, songs, and passages from books crowded all together in my mind, all about blowy days, leaves “falling down and down and down and down and down,” and Wind as a playmate.

That wasn’t the end of my windy mental explorations, but before I write any more on the subject I’ll make an effort to gather my thoughts from the corners of my mind and bookshelves and the winter skies.