Poem

The cold snap seems to have broken, and I'm glad. I had enough cold wind in my face. Not long ago I re-found a poem that for reasons I cannot explain gives me a strange little trill when I read it. Its by Mark Strand and I don't know if this is the whole thing; but it's enough for me.

And I stood in the moonlight valley
watching the great starfields
Flash and flower in the wished for
reaches of heaven.
That's when I, the dog they call Spot,
began to sing.

Let me ask this: if this does peculiar [wonderful ] things to your insides, leave a comment. I'd like to know if others agree and what you think it might be ... I don't quite know. I'm afraid I can't answer you unless you leave your email address; I'm going to find out next week if I can change the set up on this blog so I can answer people. I have SO much yet to learn ... and if I didn't know the depths of my ignorance and complacently thought I knew all that was worth knowing, I'd be so bored I'd go to bed and never get out. As it is I'm very glad to get up each day and most days I learn a little something.