Tag: sunday

Sunday Muse

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I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.
With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.
I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
— excerpt from The Brook by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Sunday Muse

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We have been thinking about our Dad… even more than usual… this winter.
He was a dairy farmer.
He milked the cows every morning… every evening…
In the winter… when winters like this… were not so unusual.
Without the benefit of modern conveniences…
No snow blower… no four-wheel drive.
Down the barn lane he went… every morning… every evening… every… day
He went down the hill and milked the girls… Blackie… Brownie… Nellie…
He was a dairy farmer.
He was… our Dad… our Hero.

Sunday Muse

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Stout-hearted bird,
When thy blithe note I heard
From out the wind-warped tree—
Chick-a-dee-dee–
There came to me
A sense of triumph, an exultant breath
Blown in the face of death.
For what are harsh and bitter circumstances
When the heart dances,
And pipes to rattling branch and icy lea
Chick-a-dee-dee!

Sing loud, sing loud,
Against that leaden cloud,
That draggeth drearily,
Chick-a-dee-dee.
Pour out thy free
Defiance to the sharpest winds that blow
And still increasing snow.
By courage, faith, and joy art thou attended,
And most befriended
By thine own heart, that bubbleth cheerily,
Chick-a-dee-dee!

“The Chickadee” by Ethelwyn Wetherald