“In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an
invincible summer.” — Albert Camus
SOURCE |
“I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structureof the
landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn’t show.” — Andrew
Wyeth
Midweek
Motif ~ Winter
Shakespeare says, “Blow, blow, thou winter wind / Thou art not so
unkind / As man's ingratitude;”.
What about you? What
does the season weave in your head?
In the place where I
live winter’s brief entry is most welcome. That nip in the air, its misty
breath, the lazy sun, arrival of migratory birds, fragrance of new harvest etc.
etc. bring about a strange joy. But this is not so with the cold countries.
How do you look at
Winter?
Winter Garden
by Matsuo Basho
Winter garden,
the moon thinned to a thread,
insects singing.
the moon thinned to a thread,
insects singing.
A Winter Bluejay
by Sara Teasdale
Crisply the bright snow whispered,
Crunching beneath our feet;
Behind us as we walked along the parkway,
Our shadows danced,
Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.
Across the lake the skaters
Flew to and fro,
With sharp turns weaving
A frail invisible net.
In ecstacy the earth
Drank the silver sunlight;
In ecstacy the skaters
Drank the wine of speed;
In ecstacy we laughed
Drinking the wine of love.
Crunching beneath our feet;
Behind us as we walked along the parkway,
Our shadows danced,
Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.
Across the lake the skaters
Flew to and fro,
With sharp turns weaving
A frail invisible net.
In ecstacy the earth
Drank the silver sunlight;
In ecstacy the skaters
Drank the wine of speed;
In ecstacy we laughed
Drinking the wine of love.
Had
not the music of our joy
Sounded its highest note?
But no,
For suddenly, with lifted eyes you said,
"Oh look!"
There, on the black bough of a snow flecked maple,
Fearless and gay as our love,
A bluejay cocked his crest!
Oh who can tell the range of joy
Or set the bounds of beauty?
Sounded its highest note?
But no,
For suddenly, with lifted eyes you said,
"Oh look!"
There, on the black bough of a snow flecked maple,
Fearless and gay as our love,
A bluejay cocked his crest!
Oh who can tell the range of joy
Or set the bounds of beauty?
The Farm Woman’s Winter
by Thomas Hardy
I
If seasons all were summers,
And leaves would never fall,
And hopping casement-comers
Were foodless not at all,
And fragile folk might be here
That white winds bid depart;
Then one I used to see here
Would warm my wasted heart!
II
One frail, who, bravely tilling
Long hours in gripping gusts,
Was mastered by their chilling,
If seasons all were summers,
And leaves would never fall,
And hopping casement-comers
Were foodless not at all,
And fragile folk might be here
That white winds bid depart;
Then one I used to see here
Would warm my wasted heart!
II
One frail, who, bravely tilling
Long hours in gripping gusts,
Was mastered by their chilling,
And now his ploughshare rusts.
So savage winter catches
The breath of limber things,
And what I love he snatches,
And what I love not, brings.
So savage winter catches
The breath of limber things,
And what I love he snatches,
And what I love not, brings.
Please share your
new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—
(Next week Susan’s Midweek
Motif will be ~ Money (for World Savings/Thrift Day).)
Winter! Apt for October end. Thank you Sumana:)
ReplyDelete(PS: My comments on your blog don't publish..kindly check the spam folder and fix it. Thanks:))
Thanks, Sumana. I have always loved the Camus quote, about the invincible summer. I do believe I have one, too. Smiles.
ReplyDeleteGood evening hope you all had a nice Wednesday
ReplyDeletemuch love...
I think Sumana had to be away this day! But she'll be back to join us soon. Have a great week.
ReplyDeleteEvening, Poets! Thanks, Sumana! :)
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