The Remorseful Day

Checking my email this morning, I see that PBS has a video about the final season of Endeavour. The video, it turns out, is simply Shaun Evans (who plays Endeavour Morse) reading A.E. Housman's poem, How Clear, How Lovely Bright.

I guess that the poem is meant to describe the stages of one's life, from youthful hope to regrets in old age. But yesterday's events - the shooting deaths of 19 children and 2 teachers in Uvalde, Texas - lay heavy on my mind, and I heard the poem in that mindset. A child's day should indeed begin lovely bright, with glee - but it ought not to end in such remorse.

How Clear, How Lovely Bright
by A.E. Housman

How clear, how lovely bright,
How beautiful to sight
Those beams of morning play;
How heaven laughs out with glee
Where, like a bird set free,
Up from the eastern sea
Soars the delightful day.

To-day I shall be strong,
No more shall yield to wrong,
Shall squander life no more;
Days lost, I know not how,
I shall retrieve them now;
Now I shall keep the vow
I never kept before.

Ensanguining the skies
How heavily it dies
Into the west away;
Past touch and sight and sound
Not further to be found,
How hopeless under ground
Falls the remorseful day.

 

Michigan's Spring Green

Spring in Michigan comes slowly. For a while, the trees wear just a hint of green, their leaves just starting to appear. Gradually they relax and open, until one day, we're out walking and discover a canopy of green.

Here's a haiku celebrating this annual miracle:

Softly, quietly, leaves unfurl, and we see trees waving their new green.

Kleinstuck Preserve

Let's Listen and Hear Each Other

 I recently read a quote by David Augsburger:

Being heard is so close to being loved that for the average person, they are almost indistinguishable. [fn1]

Such good advice. This requires that I set down my phone, my book, my knitting, my camera - whatever is claiming my attention - so that I can properly listen to and hear another person.

I wrote a haiku using this quote as a prompt:

Will you listen when
I tell my story? Will you
hear my joy and pain?

Just listen. Just hear. That's all.

Even beagle ears are for hearing

fn1: From his book, Caring Enough to Hear and Be Heard (Ventura, CA: Regal Books, 1983)

Knitting from Stash / Yarn Chicken

Over the years, I've acquired a good bit of yarn. I won't get into specifics; let's just say it's A Lot. Accordingly, I'm trying to ignore all the enticing yarn that I see on social media, and instead knit from my stash. My latest effort involved some beautiful yarn from Studio June Yarns, Squishy Soft Worsted:

Honey Mustard

National Forest

I used this to knit a baby blanket, using the Drifting Stripes 8-Hour Baby Blanket pattern by JoAnne Turcotte. This is a great pattern; it knits up fairly quickly, and creates a yummy blanket - thick and squishy, perfect for snuggling a fall baby.

I weighed the leftover yarn, and thought there'd be enough to knit the Pittsburgh Steelers Hat by Lorna Miser - although it might be close. I shortened the green ribbing, and still had to stop the colorwork early, because I'd run out of green yarn. But I think it turned out well in spite of losing yarn chicken:

Next up: another Musselburgh hat.

Haiku Challenge, Part Three

Here are the last of my haiku for this April challenge. With that, the thirty-day challenge is complete. Maybe I'll continue with weekly haiku, but no promises!

April 23 - a weakness

A leaning tree will someday fall. Without support, you will break as well.

April 24 - a hope you have for your life I changed one word in this, from what I posted on Instagram, where "might" was "will." I also decided to capitalize "She." Big changes, I know.

@HumanHaiku shared this one (the original version, of course).

I don’t expect great things, but hope people might say, “She was always kind.”

April 25 - something you miss In the summer, we kids would gather at the Banks’s, to play roundsies in their front yard. This was a version of kickball, in which players rotated through the fielding positions and the kicking position. It was ideal since we never could muster enough players to field two teams. It was also disorganized and chaotic, and was, according to Mom, the reason Gene Banks gave up on trying to grow a decent lawn.

The evening game was for fathers, and our older brothers. In reality, this probably happened just once, but it looms large in my memory. I remember cheers for a good hit, and discussions of the latest Pirates game. I remember my father drinking from a bottle of beer, a rarity. I remember showing my mom, and Marge Banks, that I’d figured out how to tie my shoes. It's all a fond memory, a small bit of neighborhood community.

Summer days were for kickball. Nights were for baseball, for watching our dads.

April 26 - anger

This is the version I submitted:

I soon regret my angry words. Can I instead learn to practice peace?

But I prefer this version, with its slight modification; the words (intonation? emphasis?) sound better to my ears.

I soon regret my angry words. Can I learn to practice peace instead?

April 27 - something that delights you

The trees are spring green with buds, tiny promises of splendor and joy.

Spring green in one of our trees

April 28 - a hard thing you're going through

I weigh my struggles; against the world’s challenges, mine appear so small.

April 29 - peace
I was not happy with this, but it was late in the day, so I called it done, even though I cringe every time I read it.

The world can’t promise peace; for that, we must turn to  a higher power.

April 30 - who you are as a human, now 
I wrote so many versions of this! I had woken in a bad mood, and the haiku reflected that, ha ha. I finally came up with this, which was not as dramatically dark as the others.

Can an old dog learn new tricks? I think so; with age come new adventures

Our Bernie, enjoying his adventures