Glade of Trill

[ismo]

Last day before the Arrivals begin! (As in "The Hobbit," "I see they are beginning to arrive.") And then everybody rifles the pantry--at least, I hope they will, because we have laid in a ridiculous supply of food. Since the Nipper & co. are not arriving till tomorrow night, we had an extra day to work on everything. This is always very deceptive! I decide, oh boy, I can do EXTRA things! Oh dear. Usually a mistake.

I really needed to sleep, and Advil did nothing for the stabby knee pain, so I tried a pillow arrangement on which to repose the knee. This actually worked pretty well, except that it was cumbersome to move around when I wanted to change position. I got six hours of pretty good sleep. This morning, the electrician came to figure out why the lights in the family room flicker maddeningly. It turned out to be stupidly simple. It was the new light bulbs, which don't work with a dimmer. We never use the dimmer anyway, so he took it out, and the flicker is gone. While he was turning off the power, I was upstairs trying to write a poem, while being summoned downstairs several times to give my opinions. I finally jotted it all down, such as it is.

And then dove into the cleaning and cake-making. The gluten free cake for the Redhead and Ms. Science, if she stops by, came out FLAT like a cookie. So I had to ask the Sparrowhawk to get me some more makings and double the recipe. The new batch just now came out of the oven. I made the ET cake, and it was beautiful, and I put it on the screen porch to cool, as I often do. The squirrels got into the porch somehow and the tricky little bastards ATE MY CAKE. I can tell you right now, when the squirrels eat your cake, Respect For All Life goes right out the window and thoughts of a baseball bat arise. I haven't had time to make another one yet because I've been washing dishes and cutting up the chicken so I can boil the bones for broth, and chopping peppers and onions for the Sparrowhawk to put in the beans. Beans and the second cake can bake together.

Anyone who suffered from yesterday's poem is invited to read this one, because it's much less sad. And I really did see Thomas Merton in a dream.

Mornings with Thomas Merton

I met Thomas Merton at a conference, in a dream.
He had an accident.
He cut his sandaled foot.
A wound in his heel went trickling red.
I gave him first aid.
I bandaged it for him.
We became friends.
The conference ended. He had to return to his monastery.
Parting, I said,
“I would say au revoir, but I guess I’ll never see you again.”
With the same defiant, secretive smile
He wears in so many photographs,
He replied
“Never is a long time.”

Last night I opened the magic door
Just after midnight
To see if it was snowing—
And it was—
And was rewarded,
Welcomed into the brand new day
Still sleeping in its cloak of darkness
By the owl hooting
In the dark pine trees
At the back of my yard.

And this morning, what brilliant sparkling
Of sun on the fresh new snow,
Fresh but maybe last,
The alpha and omega of snow,
The season’s treasure of evanescence.
The pine trees nestled into the sun
Like waking children
As jewel-drops trickled
Through the fingers of their branches.
The mourning dove’s fluting
Echoed the owl’s night oboe.
And the sun, grown strong enough to penetrate the windowpane,
Reached through to touch my knee
Like a persistent suitor.

And I thought of you, my friend,
And offered in your name my humble praise:
Snow, owl, midnight, darkness,
Sunlight, pine boughs, mourning dove.
And you came to mind again
As if stepping softly in on the sun’s arm,
And I reproached you.
“You said never is a long time. You said ‘never.’”
And you smiled again, and teasing, told me
“No, I said ‘It won’t be long.’”