Monday Morning Musings:
“Winter passed away; and spring, led by the months, awakened life in all nature. The forest was dressed in green; the young calves frisked on the new-sprung grass; the wind-winged shadows of light clouds sped over the green cornfields; the hermit cuckoo repeated his monotonous all-hail to the season; the nightingale, bird of love and minion of the evening star, filled the woods with song; while Venus lingered in the warm sunset, and the young green of the trees lay in gentle relief along the clear horizon.”
–Mary Shelley, quoted in this essay on Brainpickings,
Be blue—and after, dance–
live for magic
though your heart is haunted
by voices sailing through time,
ghosts come and go
like a kiss,
like the scent of coffee
lingering in the kitchen–
those mornings, colored with joy
you remember?
An ocean breeze
leaving a taste of salt,
tears of joy and sorrow,
the sea knows
and so does the earth,
dazzling now with spring blooms
lush green canopies
filled with bird song.
A duck couple takes a walk
to see the wonder of it all.
There is death and despair all around,
but you see the sun rising over the horizon
reflected in the river, water,
the source of life,
Delaware River
and the air is perfumed now
with flowers and hope.
Rain Garden at West Deptford Public Library–A water lily in bloom
Nothing much happening here, so I visited the Oracle and she gave me a clear message right away. Get over yourself, I can hear her saying, though in my circle of blogger/poet friends, I’ve now heard of the death of five elderly mothers, including my own, in the past month. The young child of a family’s member’s colleague also died from Covid 19. I would say hold your loved ones tight, but for the most part, we can’t.
I caught up with friends and family by phone and Zoom. I had work and projects to finish this week, but I should have some movie recommendations next week. We finished Star Trek: Discovery’s two seasons–perfect pandemic escape viewing.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
We can never get over ourselves. We are touched in so many ways that it’s impossible to forget what that means to us.
Yes, that’s true. Thanks, Ken.
Lovely, and such a clear message. I don’t think she’s saying get over yourself though. More get over yourself as the centre of the universe, though I don’t think she’d even say that to you. It’s a message we should all listen to, and value our place alongside others.
Thank you very much, Jane. Yes, you’re right. I was kind of saying that tongue in cheek. 😀 But she doesn’t often give such an immediate clear message. Those were the first words I saw!
There’s no doubt about it—she knows 🙂
She does!
🙂
So very beautiful, Merril
Thank you very much, Derrick.
I think she was saying that despite your grief, there is much joy to find and create.
Always a beautiful Monday post from you with gorgeous images to add colour to your already lovely poetry.
Thank you very much, Dale. I appreciate your kind words, as always!
💖
Such good advice, really. The cycle of life continues. Such gorgeous photos! You really create a mood here in word and image.
Thank you so much, Luanne. Much appreciated!
Gorgeous bright energetic photos, thanks Merril. Thank heavens for
life among death –
Thank you, Susan. Yes, indeed.
This is such a beautiful post of hope and renewal, Merril. As for your photographs…simply stunning. Thank you for sharing. Take care of yourself. ❤
Thank you so much, Jill! ❤️
I love the yellows, the pinks, the green, water and ducks. Beautiful images.
Thank you, Jude. I’m pleased you like the photos.
My pleasure
We are all of it, and all of it is there for us…what lovely words and images.
I think the idea is to acknowledge–something our government seems loathe to do–the pain of these deaths, and to remember the lives–so hard under the present circumstances where there is no room for proper mourning–and see how they are reflected and held in the world around us, the renewal of life. (K)
Thank you very much, Kerfe. Yes, I think you’re right about that acknowledgement and mourning–and the renewal of life.
Your scenery matches mine in Florida, including lake reflections, ducks, and more ducklings.
Grieving is a recursive thing, I’ve found. I’m glad right now nature is bringing comfort.
Thank you very much, Marian.
“And after, dance” is good advice. I’d add: and during, dance. Grieving takes a while, sometimes a very long while. Maybe more so during these times when it can’t be done in the usual way, in the company of others. Movement can be a good way to express grief.
Spring is doing her best to try to remind us of life. You’re capturing her beautifully in words and images. ❤
Thanks so much, Robin. Spring is doing her best. ❤️
(My husband and I have a sort of joke where I dance to the title music of TV shows we watch.)
I do live for magic!!
I find it in art, all kinds of art. I found it here today!
Beautifully written, Merril!
Thank you so much!
And you do find magic in art and all around you, Resa!
❤