My Clouds

A Poem Called My Cloud by Kate Slaughter McKinney

There's a cloud on my life’s horizon

wonderful shape and hue,

Like the feathery down of a snow-drift

’Tis dimpled with changeful blue.

I gaze on its shadowy outline

And drink in the calm of the skies,

Till I fancy it floats out of heaven,

As an angel in disguise.

No slumbering storm in its bosom,

No hint of the lightning’s glare,

Only a feast for the heart and soul

Is this treasure of the air;

For I know from its silvery edges,

And glimpses of hidden gold,

That a picture of rare tranquility

Its tender depths enfold.

Else whence is this mystic feeling

Of peace that’s stealing o’er me?

Like the magic of summer moonlight

Enchanting a restless sea.

O! heavenly cloud! why are you

So calm? so angelic you seem,

My spirit escapes in its longing—

I am lost in a beautiful dream.

Up, up on the wings of a swallow

Piercing the heaven’s deep blue,

O’er meadow and mount I am rising,

And floating, sweet spirit, to you;

Onward, in trance I am wafted,

Now into the cloudlet above;

And a face smiles out from its drapery,

And ah! ’tis a face that I love.

The Grass is Happy

A Poem Called Hay by Ted Hughes

The grass is happy
To run like the sea, to be glossed like a mink’s fur
By polishing wind.
Her heart is the weather.
She loves nobody
Least of all the farmer who leans on the gate.

The grass is happy
When the June sun roasts the foxgloves in the hedges.
She comes into her flower.
She lifts her skirts.
It does not concern her
The pondering farmer has begun to hope.

The grass is happy to open her scents, like a dress, through the county,
Drugging light hearts
To heavy betrothals 
And next April’s fools,
While pensioners puzzle where life went so airily.

The grass is happy
When the spinner tumbles her, she silvers and she sweetens
Plain as a castle.
The hare looks for home
And the dusty farmer
For a hand-shaped cloud and a yellow evening.

Happy the grass
To be wooed by the farmer, who wins her and brings her to church in her beauty,
Bride of the Island.
Luckless the long-drawn
Aeons of Eden
Before he came to mow.

The Yard Light

Flying at Night, by Ted Kooser, 1939

Above us, stars.  Beneath us, constellations.

Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies

like a snowflake falling on water.  Below us, 

some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death, 

snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barn

back into the little system of his care.

All night, the cities, like shimmering novas, 

tug with bright streets at lonely lights like

his.  

The Beasts' Confession

An excerpt from The Beasts' Confession by Johnathan Swift

The goat advanc'd with decent pace;

And first excus'd his youthful face;

Forgiveness begg'd that he appear'd

('Twas nature's fault) without a beard.

'Tis true, he was not much inclin'd

To fondness for the female kind;

Not, as his enemies object,

From chance, or natural defect;

Not by his frigid constitution,

But through a pious resolution;

For he had made a holy vow

Of chastity as monks do now;

Which he resolv'd to keep for ever hence,

As strictly too, as doth his Reverence.

Verse for a Certain Dog By Dorothy Parker

Such glorious faith as fills your limpid eyes,

Dear little friend of mine, I never knew.

All-innocent are you, and yet all-wise.

(For Heaven's sake, stop worrying that shoe!)

You look about, and all you see is fair;
This mighty globe was made for you alone.

Of all the thunderous ages, you're the heir.
(Get off the pillow with that dirty bone!)

A skeptic world you face with steady gaze;

High in young pride you hold your noble head;

Gayly you meet the rush of roaring days.

(Must you eat puppy biscuit on the bed?)

Lancelike your courage, gleaming swift and strong,

Yours the white rapture of a winged soul,

Yours is a spirit like a May-day song.

(God help you, if you break the goldfish bowl!)

"Whatever is, is good" your gracious creed.
You wear your joy of living like a crown.

Love lights your simplest act, your every deed.

(Drop it, I tell you put that kitten down!)

You are God's kindliest gift of all a friend.

Your shining loyalty unflecked by doubt,

You ask but leave to follow to the end.

(Couldn't you wait until I took you out?)

Do You Like Blue Eggs and Brown?

I do not like them in the straw.

I do not like them in a hat.  

I would not eat them under water.

Or eat them like a scoop of fodder. 

I do not like them from under a hen.

I do not like like them in a pen.

I would not eat them from my shirt.

I will not eat them from the dirt.  

I do not like them in a pile.

I would not, could not, from the barn.

Would you, could you, in a basket?   

Eat them! Eat them! Here they are.    

Say!  I like green eggs and brown! I do, I like them, Sam-I-am.  

So I will eat them from the straw. 

I will eat from a hat. 

I will even eat them from a scoop. 

I will eat them despite the chicken poop!   

Work! for the daylight flies;

Work! for the night is coming; 

Under the sunset skies, 

While their bright tints are glowing, 

Work! for the daylight flies; 

Work! till the last beam fadeth, 

Fadeth to shine no more; 

Work! while the night is darkening,-- 

Night, when man's work is o'er.

- from The Night Cometh written by Anne Louisa Walker, 1861

Work! before the weekend is over, when we have to go back to Work!  We enjoyed working at the farm house last Saturday, when Brandon installed our first junction box as we redesigned some light locations, and I completed a much needed construction site clean up.  Our work was frequently interrupted by the lovely snow outside, and the sunset in the photo at the top.  There were no clouds, but the sky was layers of pinks and the sun was a perfect circle of vibrant orange, falling so fast we could see it's motion as it sank behind the neighbors barn and hay field.  

The focus of our work shifted from the upstairs ceiling, to the pantry off the kitchen.  Prepping the pantry ceiling led us to rethink the location of one of our lights, which we moved from inside the pantry to the living room ceiling.  This meant cutting a hole in our newly installed ceiling boards, which made us a little nervous.  

I don't know why we were worried - we can cut holes in things like pros these days.  If you can see in the picture above, we installed a small can light to the right of the chimney, to make a display nook on the chimney for a piece of sculpture.  We also ran a wire to make a second nook on the other side, but then decided in favor of asymmetry, and are not going to expose both sides of the chimney, which left the wire in the pantry.  We really didn't need a second light in the pantry on the same switch as the nook light, so Brandon installed a junction box so we could move the second light out into the living room and make a reading light for the corner.  In the photo, Brandon is practicing sitting under the light and holding a book, you know, to make sure it works.   He gives it two thumbs up for imaginary book illumination.  

The melting snow provided a good opportunity for observing how our new gutters are functioning.  We had to hire someone to re-morter (tuck point?) and seal the portion of the chimney that sticks out of the house, because water was seeping into the bricks and wicking down the chimney to the upstairs wood floor.  I'm pretty sure we could have done the job ourselves if the work had been anywhere besides the top of a two story house.  Ladders are scary.  While the guys were there working on the chimney, we hired them to put up some gutters too.  We now have gutters, but we need to do some drainage work around the house foundation, or put some pipes on the ends of the gutters to direct the water away from the foundation.  At least that work will be on the ground.   

This the view from our door.  On evenings with sunsets like this, I wish the entire west side our our house was made of glass.