|
| |
|
|
| |
The Waking
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I cannot go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree, but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
--Theodore Roethke
|
|
|
|
Joy's Updates - Straight from the Horse's Mouth.
|
|
| |
Thursday, May 22, 2003
Whitie the Chicken
One of the chickens we saved from its mental mother became a pet. She would follow us when we walked. The sound her little chicken claws made on the hardwood floor were similar to that brush thing drummers use or maybe a rain stick. Very cute running behind each foot. Then she'd get on our shoulder when we talked on the phone. I'd pick her up, and she would climb to my shoulder and walk around while I talked. Sometimes she perched there and other times I had to change clothes. Later on she was assimilated back into the chicken pen and lived among her own kind. She grew up to be brown which made her name sort of odd. We could go out and pick her up and pet her though, and later when she had baby chicks (which she did not kill but took care of - glad that wasn't hereditary), she let my brother and me pick them up. Mother hens don't ordinarily do that, either.
12:59:00 PM
|
|
| |
|
|
|
