Nature gets away with it:
Repeats each year the same
Familiar alphabet
And utters, without shame,
The clichés she has aired
Since daffodils first came
Before the swallow dared;
Her phrases catch the breath;
We don’t ask to be spared
When, having passed through death,
We face the platitude
Of tenth – or fiftieth –
Return to life; have stood
Repeated ecstasies
In the enchanted wood.
Why, then, this quaint disease,
This fever to be new,
This fear we shall not please
With thoughts, however true,
That Man has hatched before?
Are we not Nature too?-
Or is it something more
Than Nature in our kind
Smells out the shapes that bore
At those which will remind
The dying they must die –
Which, like the solar wind
Unnoticed in the sky,
Corrode the cells, and state
With vast redundancy
The dull routine of fate?
Redundancy, by Edward Lowbury
Thrushes, by Siegfried Sassoon
As an aside, Siegfried Sassoon is buried at St. Andrew’s church in the village of Mells, near Bath. Another reason to visit the most beautiful town in England….
God’s first language is silence.
His second, heat.
He learned mercy next,
though he still has trouble with the pronunciations.
Then Aramaic, Igbo, Old High German.
God is a completist,
proud to understand every earthly prayer.
But if you’ve studied languages, you know
comprehension’s the easy part.
Much harder to say something back
without using
your mother tongue.
Unaccented, by Maureen Thorson
The trees are glorious in their Autumn colour. The train journey home is at the perfect time to catch the colours of the sunset sky, shown below at Avoncliff Aqueduct next to the station. It will soon be night walks for the dog in the company of the stars. He enjoys snuffling in the abundant fallen leaves.
Regards,
Aidan Quinn.