Wednesday, July 22, 2020
Frog Eggs in the Bees' Pool - MePhone Photograph 22 July 2020
Frogs are marvelous - they devour mosquitoes and other pests, and are biological markers: frogs are susceptible to pollution, so if you have frogs you have a clean environment.
Bees also are marvelous - without their pollination activity we would starve. They need fresh water, but since they can't take off from the water be sure to provide them with debris from which they can launch after they have refreshed themselves.
Silence Gives only Itself - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Soft silences are beautiful and
rare
Those happy gifts of meditation given
Unify self in wise tranquility
Pondering transcendent reality
Considerations of eternal verities
Outside the fallenness of space and time
About that, and about false fate itself
Doubts sometimes must determinations
precede
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Silence
Gives only Itself
“What does it betoken, this silence?”
-Cromwell in Robert Bolt’s A Man for All Seasons
Those happy gifts of meditation given
Unify self in wise tranquility
Pondering transcendent reality
Inside the narratives of the
pensive mind
Defining through an absence of endeavorsConsiderations of eternal verities
Outside the fallenness of space and time
Mankind can never be masters of
fate
Reason shows us that Cassius
was wrongAbout that, and about false fate itself
Doubts sometimes must determinations
precede
Every occasion for reason is
just and fair -
Soft silences are beautiful and
rareTuesday, July 21, 2020
Coy Litotes - Haiku
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
By coy Litotes
Who were not unworthy of
Their reputation
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
We Were Diffidently Addressed
By coy Litotes
Who were not unworthy of
Their reputation
Monday, July 20, 2020
After the Wedding - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The night outside was cold; the fire was warm
And so was she, all golden in the light
That gentle light, a glass of wine in hand
Her eyes, her lips sweet tributes to God’s grace
We spoke of love, of what was good and true
And beautiful, of promises freely given
Of trust anointed through those promises
And then she put her glass aside, and whispered:
“I love you so much; you need only ask
Since now for you only will I slip off
my mask”
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
After the Wedding
The night outside was cold; the fire was warm
And so was she, all golden in the light
That gentle light, a glass of wine in hand
Her eyes, her lips sweet tributes to God’s grace
We spoke of love, of what was good and true
And beautiful, of promises freely given
Of trust anointed through those promises
And then she put her glass aside, and whispered:
“I love you so much; you need only ask
Since now for you only will I slip off
my mask”
Sunday, July 19, 2020
A Tyburn Tree in Diebus Nostris - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
This summer seems to be a Tyburn Tree
Everything upright connects to crossing beams
Whose angles cancel every aspiration
In a suspension of time, of thought, of hope
This summer seems to be a Tyburn Tree
Everything horizontal paused in place
Resting upon the uprights locked in theirs
In a suspension of all purposes
This summer seems to be a Tyburn Tree
Where our uncertainties together hang
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Tyburn Tree in Diebus Nostris
This summer seems to be a Tyburn Tree
Everything upright connects to crossing beams
Whose angles cancel every aspiration
In a suspension of time, of thought, of hope
This summer seems to be a Tyburn Tree
Everything horizontal paused in place
Resting upon the uprights locked in theirs
In a suspension of all purposes
This summer seems to be a Tyburn Tree
Where our uncertainties together hang
Saturday, July 18, 2020
Your Browser is No Longer Supported - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poetricdrivel.blogspot.com
Thank you for visiting asymmetrical.
Business’n’homesolutions.plop
You are using a heritage legacy
Browser HELP CENTER that worked just fine and
met
All your home and business needs but which some
Shaven-headed twit in a cartoon tee
Ditched because he had nothing better to do
In Waycool California which may impact
Your reading experience for the best experience
We recommend you access the newer than new
XtreemShockWaveOneFormatToRuleThem
Golly Gosh Browser that we trust you will find
To be user hostile, difficult to load,
Confusing, HELP CENTER, oblique, and obtuse
Our most obvious feature is to make
It almost impossible to import
All your tabs and addresses and connections
Because we are in the 21st century
And we must come together all as one
Because you had nothing better to do
Today except PRIVACY CENTER HA
Spend hours rattling the computer keys
Only for us to say you were unsuccessful
And you must start all over HELP CENTER
mhall46184@aol.com
poetricdrivel.blogspot.com
Your Browser is No Longer Supported
Thank you for visiting asymmetrical.
Business’n’homesolutions.plop
You are using a heritage legacy
Browser HELP CENTER that worked just fine and
met
All your home and business needs but which some
Shaven-headed twit in a cartoon tee
Ditched because he had nothing better to do
In Waycool California which may impact
Your reading experience for the best experience
We recommend you access the newer than new
XtreemShockWaveOneFormatToRuleThem
Golly Gosh Browser that we trust you will find
To be user hostile, difficult to load,
Confusing, HELP CENTER, oblique, and obtuse
Our most obvious feature is to make
It almost impossible to import
All your tabs and addresses and connections
Because we are in the 21st century
And we must come together all as one
Because you had nothing better to do
Today except PRIVACY CENTER HA
Spend hours rattling the computer keys
Only for us to say you were unsuccessful
And you must start all over HELP CENTER
Friday, July 17, 2020
Leslie - Disappeared
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
That happy child we used to see at Mass
First communion, confirmation, nice kid
She played the trumpet in the high school band
Then off to the city in her springtime of life
No one seems to know where her body is
Not until after the mandated autopsy
She’s probably stacked with all the others
A refrigerator truck in some parking lot
The President enjoyed his golf game today
Cheerful, and optimistic about the elections
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Leslie - Disappeared
“…a nameless number on a list that was afterwards mislaid.”
Evgraf in Doctor Zhivago
That happy child we used to see at Mass
First communion, confirmation, nice kid
She played the trumpet in the high school band
Then off to the city in her springtime of life
No one seems to know where her body is
Not until after the mandated autopsy
She’s probably stacked with all the others
A refrigerator truck in some parking lot
The President enjoyed his golf game today
Cheerful, and optimistic about the elections
Thursday, July 16, 2020
Putting on a Bold Texas Face Against CV-19 - weekly column
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
My latest washable mask is from the skilled fingers of a local young woman artisan who crafted it with variations on our Lone Star Flag. When I drive into town on errands I’m not only doing my small part for the safety of others I’m also showing my loyalty to our Republic.
May God bless Texas and may He confuse all her enemies.
An axion of country life in Texas is that a man isn’t fully dressed without his pocketknife. So it was, so it is, so it will be.
And, no, a pocketknife is not a weapon, although as with any other tool (possibly not a tape measure) it can be used as such. A pocketknife is a tool for work, which is possibly what confuses the keyboard commandos and the perpetually outraged who want to ban everything they don’t understand.
Another tool without which a man is not fully dressed for the present is his face mask. Masks can be used by packs of unmanly losers who hide their cowardly mugs while robbing an unarmed store clerk, but that is not what masks are for.
A mask is not about the wearer at all; a mask is about a man’s protectiveness of those whose health is vulnerable to the That Bug (or whatever it is the tubers are calling it this week). Protecting the vulnerable is what men do, the whole “women and children first” thing.
If you think you look silly with a mask, well, that’s pretty much irrelevant because when you wear a mask, a sick child or a recent transplant patient or your Meemaw or Pawpaw along the chain of being will NOT die.
I look pretty darned silly without a mask anyway, so that’s another reason for me, at least, to wear one.
Surgeons wear masks, as do nurses, technicians, and the EMTs who came out to the house in the middle of the night when your mama fell. The masks aren’t for the health-care providers, who are in the peak of health; the masks are to protect your mama. You love your mama, don’t you?
A surgeon or EMT doesn’t argue against wearing masks based on some specious claim about some amendment, nor does he or she have any problem breathing and working and saving lives while wearing them. It’s about duty.
Look, I don’t like masks. I don’t like wearing them. I don’t like going back to the truck for a mask because I forgot it. Masks make my glasses fog. Masks smell funny.
And, sure, those are sorrows right up there with mass murder or mass starvation or desert warfare in Whosedumbideawasthisistan.
Yep, you probably look pretty silly in a mask. So deal with it. Suck it up. Saddle up. Man up. Ride to the sound of the guns. Wear your mask.
A little history re masks:
https://www.theatlantic.com/photo/2020/07/photos-influenza-masks-1918/614272/?utm_source=&silverid-ref=NTQ1Mjk2NDIyMjYwS0
Mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Putting on a Bold Texas Face Against CV-19
My latest washable mask is from the skilled fingers of a local young woman artisan who crafted it with variations on our Lone Star Flag. When I drive into town on errands I’m not only doing my small part for the safety of others I’m also showing my loyalty to our Republic.
May God bless Texas and may He confuse all her enemies.
An axion of country life in Texas is that a man isn’t fully dressed without his pocketknife. So it was, so it is, so it will be.
And, no, a pocketknife is not a weapon, although as with any other tool (possibly not a tape measure) it can be used as such. A pocketknife is a tool for work, which is possibly what confuses the keyboard commandos and the perpetually outraged who want to ban everything they don’t understand.
Another tool without which a man is not fully dressed for the present is his face mask. Masks can be used by packs of unmanly losers who hide their cowardly mugs while robbing an unarmed store clerk, but that is not what masks are for.
A mask is not about the wearer at all; a mask is about a man’s protectiveness of those whose health is vulnerable to the That Bug (or whatever it is the tubers are calling it this week). Protecting the vulnerable is what men do, the whole “women and children first” thing.
If you think you look silly with a mask, well, that’s pretty much irrelevant because when you wear a mask, a sick child or a recent transplant patient or your Meemaw or Pawpaw along the chain of being will NOT die.
I look pretty darned silly without a mask anyway, so that’s another reason for me, at least, to wear one.
Surgeons wear masks, as do nurses, technicians, and the EMTs who came out to the house in the middle of the night when your mama fell. The masks aren’t for the health-care providers, who are in the peak of health; the masks are to protect your mama. You love your mama, don’t you?
A surgeon or EMT doesn’t argue against wearing masks based on some specious claim about some amendment, nor does he or she have any problem breathing and working and saving lives while wearing them. It’s about duty.
Look, I don’t like masks. I don’t like wearing them. I don’t like going back to the truck for a mask because I forgot it. Masks make my glasses fog. Masks smell funny.
And, sure, those are sorrows right up there with mass murder or mass starvation or desert warfare in Whosedumbideawasthisistan.
Yep, you probably look pretty silly in a mask. So deal with it. Suck it up. Saddle up. Man up. Ride to the sound of the guns. Wear your mask.
A little history re masks:
https://www.theatlantic.com/photo/2020/07/photos-influenza-masks-1918/614272/?utm_source=&silverid-ref=NTQ1Mjk2NDIyMjYwS0
-30-
Praying for Rain on Saint Swithin's Day - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Oh, yes, there are pale necromancers still
Like poor Macbeth’s witches summoning facts
That rise like bloated corpses to the surface
Of strange electromechanical cauldrons
But we consult the winds, the clouds, the stars
Whose songs and shapes and brilliant silences
Allow us to savor all mysteries
The hymns of Creation from long ago
Some look into little cauldrons for the rain
But we look up expectantly to God
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Praying for Rain on Saint Swithin’s Day
Oh, yes, there are pale necromancers still
Like poor Macbeth’s witches summoning facts
That rise like bloated corpses to the surface
Of strange electromechanical cauldrons
But we consult the winds, the clouds, the stars
Whose songs and shapes and brilliant silences
Allow us to savor all mysteries
The hymns of Creation from long ago
Some look into little cauldrons for the rain
But we look up expectantly to God
Wednesday, July 15, 2020
The Vain Hope of Ascending to Heaven Upon Clouds of Toilet Paper - Doggerel
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
We mourn the passing of poor Joe Draper
Crushed by falling cases of toilet paper
And though poor Joe had fever, ‘flu, and gout,
It was the toilet paper that wiped him out
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Vain Hope of Ascending to Heaven Upon Clouds of Toilet Paper
A Brief Discourse in Doggerel Verse Upon the False Hopes and Vanities of Hoarding
in Which it is Hoped that Young and Old Will Suffer Themselves to be Wisely Instructed
Upon Certain Errors and Perils. Amen.
We mourn the passing of poor Joe Draper
Crushed by falling cases of toilet paper
And though poor Joe had fever, ‘flu, and gout,
It was the toilet paper that wiped him out
Tuesday, July 14, 2020
A Pocket Notebook Found in an Old Coat - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
1. Memos to myself in the long ago:
McKuen asks me for my autograph
Cohen offers me one of his coolest hats
Or maybe that famous blue raincoat
Pushkin’s spirit challenges me to a duel
Book-signing in Harrod’s on Saturday
An invitation from the Bishop of Rome
For the same day as the Queen’s garden party
I need to find full-dress for the Nobel
2. Memo to myself now:
Well, maybe next year in Jerusalem -
I always keep my passport up to date
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Pocket Notebook Found in an Old Coat
1. Memos to myself in the long ago:
McKuen asks me for my autograph
Cohen offers me one of his coolest hats
Or maybe that famous blue raincoat
Pushkin’s spirit challenges me to a duel
Book-signing in Harrod’s on Saturday
An invitation from the Bishop of Rome
For the same day as the Queen’s garden party
I need to find full-dress for the Nobel
2. Memo to myself now:
Well, maybe next year in Jerusalem -
I always keep my passport up to date
Monday, July 13, 2020
Woods Spider at Dusk - MePhone Photograph
The larger spider is about the size of an adult human's hand. The next morning there were more small spiders, presumably the larger spider's offspring.
The Congress of Vienna Sausage - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
How strange to find that we are Metternichs
Among a scape of crumbling institutions
Of cracked and weedy streets, with last night’s screams
Souring in the searing, soulless midday sun
Our dreams deferred, our works falling apart
The processes of being that seemed resolved
Now knotted and tangled beyond all knowing
Our spiritual compasses pointing back at us
But we are here, with shovels, buckets, and brooms,
Lifting the CAUTION tapes, and cleaning up
Again
https://www.historytoday.com/archive/what-was-congress-vienna
https://www.britannica.com/event/Congress-of-Vienna
https://courses.lumenlearning.com/suny-hccc-worldhistory2/chapter/the-congress-of-vienna/
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Congress of Vienna Sausage
How strange to find that we are Metternichs
Among a scape of crumbling institutions
Of cracked and weedy streets, with last night’s screams
Souring in the searing, soulless midday sun
Our dreams deferred, our works falling apart
The processes of being that seemed resolved
Now knotted and tangled beyond all knowing
Our spiritual compasses pointing back at us
But we are here, with shovels, buckets, and brooms,
Lifting the CAUTION tapes, and cleaning up
Again
https://www.historytoday.com/archive/what-was-congress-vienna
https://www.britannica.com/event/Congress-of-Vienna
https://courses.lumenlearning.com/suny-hccc-worldhistory2/chapter/the-congress-of-vienna/
Sunday, July 12, 2020
The Centimetre-Worm - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
On a summer day
While harvesting the first sunflower seeds
I felt the shyest tickle on my arm
As if the smallest creature in the world
Wanted me to pay attention to it
And it was so – a centimetre-worm
Whose dream was to be an inchworm someday
Arching its little green self in a dance
Of nature: “Look at me too!” was its theme
And when its adagio was complete
I politely bowed the worm-in-training
Stage right onto a refreshing tomato leaf
On a summer day
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Centimetre-Worm
On a summer day
While harvesting the first sunflower seeds
I felt the shyest tickle on my arm
As if the smallest creature in the world
Wanted me to pay attention to it
And it was so – a centimetre-worm
Whose dream was to be an inchworm someday
Arching its little green self in a dance
Of nature: “Look at me too!” was its theme
And when its adagio was complete
I politely bowed the worm-in-training
Stage right onto a refreshing tomato leaf
On a summer day
Saturday, July 11, 2020
In Honor of Hagia Sophia - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogsport.com
Our eternal Constantinople is
Never to be lost, never defeated:
In every Christian flows Dragases' blood
Every village is the Holy City
Every church is Hagia Sophia
Every prayer is a Mass for the Emperor
Every children's foot-race the Hippodrome
Every poor family's poor supper
A banquet under the Red-Apple Tree -
Constantinople lives, now and forever
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogsport.com
In Honor of Hagia Sophia
From A Liturgy for the Emperor
Our eternal Constantinople is
Never to be lost, never defeated:
In every Christian flows Dragases' blood
Every village is the Holy City
Every church is Hagia Sophia
Every prayer is a Mass for the Emperor
Every children's foot-race the Hippodrome
Every poor family's poor supper
A banquet under the Red-Apple Tree -
Constantinople lives, now and forever
Friday, July 10, 2020
A Cup of Morning 'Possum - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A morning best begins with a cuppa joe
(insert an appropriate ad jingle here)
That first reflective cup of optimism
Given us by our beneficent God
But first I must take the nightly ‘possum away
Far into the woods, away from my tomatoes
The trap set every evening, and sprung every night
‘Possums day after ‘possum day, oh, yay
And so
The garden is at peace, the coffee is hot
The dachshunds are happy, the ‘possum is not
Another cup?
Note: Opossums / ‘possums are beneficent animals in so many ways (https://www.littlethings.com/possum-facts/) and should never be harmed, but if they find your garden vegetables delicious they (the ‘possums, not the vegetables) can be gently repatriated to the wild by way of any of the many types of no-pain, no-kill live-traps. After gardening season I trap them only to put them on the other side of the fence in order to keep them save from the dogs.
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Cup of Morning ‘Possum
Or
The Great ‘Possum Invasion of 2020
A morning best begins with a cuppa joe
(insert an appropriate ad jingle here)
That first reflective cup of optimism
Given us by our beneficent God
But first I must take the nightly ‘possum away
Far into the woods, away from my tomatoes
The trap set every evening, and sprung every night
‘Possums day after ‘possum day, oh, yay
And so
The garden is at peace, the coffee is hot
The dachshunds are happy, the ‘possum is not
Another cup?
Note: Opossums / ‘possums are beneficent animals in so many ways (https://www.littlethings.com/possum-facts/) and should never be harmed, but if they find your garden vegetables delicious they (the ‘possums, not the vegetables) can be gently repatriated to the wild by way of any of the many types of no-pain, no-kill live-traps. After gardening season I trap them only to put them on the other side of the fence in order to keep them save from the dogs.
Thursday, July 9, 2020
Your Job is Essential - Weekly Column
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Some say this is the age of the coronavirus (or whatever the deadly infection is being called this week). Perhaps it is, but more than that this is the age of incoherence. No one agrees on what the killer virus is, where it came from, whether it is a perturbation in nature (Macbeth 5:1), an accident of research, or a malevolent plot. No one agrees on masks or not masks, isolation or congregation, work or no work, medical ventilators or not, treatments, schemes, dubious medicines (Macbeth IV:I), numbers of deaths, or the utility of borders (Richard II II:1)
But there is one thing that is, as Shakespeare said, as constant as the northern star (Julius Caesar III.1): your job is essential.
An economy can no more shut down than a state – if it does, it dies. People will die. A parent does not shut down his or her family: “Sorry, kids, no more eating, no more breathing – just shut down. No complaints, please; just die quietly.”
Water does not come from a tap, electricity does not come from a little box in the wall, and food does not come from the store. All goods and services are based on the physical and intellectual endeavors of human beings. The sequencing of water from an undependable and unclean state of nature requires smart, industrious human beings to drill wells, build dams, establish reservoirs, construct pipelines, devise water pumps and tanks, analyze and clean and purify water, and develop a system of maintenance.
Farming and the delivery of clean, nutritious, edible food requires a complexity of physical and intellectual endeavor possible only with a highly developed and thus orderly civilization.
Every bit of honest work contributes to life, to humanity, to civilization: farming, welding, building trucks, driving railway trains, flying planes, delivering the mail, changing the baby, planting a garden, sacking groceries, filling prescriptions, cleaning the ditches for drainage and mosquito abatement, roofing the house, waiting tables, clearing foliage from power lines, building a fence, herding cattle, selling shirts, changing the oil, washing clothes, taking a grandchild fishing, buying, learning, selling, reading, writing, calculating tree volume with a Biltmore stick just as your vocational agriculture or math teacher taught you – all these endeavors feed, clothe, and shelter us now and help carry civilization from one generation to the next.
The Book of Genesis is clear that we humans must work the gifts given us, and that whatever God’s purposes for us, lounging in front of glowing screens and indulging in passive entertainments are not part of them. The Garden is there, yes, but if we don’t turn to and bear a hand, there’ll be nothing to eat.
I don’t have any solutions for the whatevervirus and the current discontents (wear your mask and maintain good hygiene and distance, though), but keeping people from working will – will – make things worse, not only for individual families who will lose their homes and their livelihoods, but for all of humanity. Categorizing any honest labor as nonessential is uncivilized.
Your job is essential.
Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man’s
happiness, glad of other men’s good, content with my harm, and the greatest of my pride is to
see my ewes graze and my lambs suck.
Mhall46184@aol.com
Your Job is Essential
Some say this is the age of the coronavirus (or whatever the deadly infection is being called this week). Perhaps it is, but more than that this is the age of incoherence. No one agrees on what the killer virus is, where it came from, whether it is a perturbation in nature (Macbeth 5:1), an accident of research, or a malevolent plot. No one agrees on masks or not masks, isolation or congregation, work or no work, medical ventilators or not, treatments, schemes, dubious medicines (Macbeth IV:I), numbers of deaths, or the utility of borders (Richard II II:1)
But there is one thing that is, as Shakespeare said, as constant as the northern star (Julius Caesar III.1): your job is essential.
An economy can no more shut down than a state – if it does, it dies. People will die. A parent does not shut down his or her family: “Sorry, kids, no more eating, no more breathing – just shut down. No complaints, please; just die quietly.”
Water does not come from a tap, electricity does not come from a little box in the wall, and food does not come from the store. All goods and services are based on the physical and intellectual endeavors of human beings. The sequencing of water from an undependable and unclean state of nature requires smart, industrious human beings to drill wells, build dams, establish reservoirs, construct pipelines, devise water pumps and tanks, analyze and clean and purify water, and develop a system of maintenance.
Farming and the delivery of clean, nutritious, edible food requires a complexity of physical and intellectual endeavor possible only with a highly developed and thus orderly civilization.
Every bit of honest work contributes to life, to humanity, to civilization: farming, welding, building trucks, driving railway trains, flying planes, delivering the mail, changing the baby, planting a garden, sacking groceries, filling prescriptions, cleaning the ditches for drainage and mosquito abatement, roofing the house, waiting tables, clearing foliage from power lines, building a fence, herding cattle, selling shirts, changing the oil, washing clothes, taking a grandchild fishing, buying, learning, selling, reading, writing, calculating tree volume with a Biltmore stick just as your vocational agriculture or math teacher taught you – all these endeavors feed, clothe, and shelter us now and help carry civilization from one generation to the next.
The Book of Genesis is clear that we humans must work the gifts given us, and that whatever God’s purposes for us, lounging in front of glowing screens and indulging in passive entertainments are not part of them. The Garden is there, yes, but if we don’t turn to and bear a hand, there’ll be nothing to eat.
I don’t have any solutions for the whatevervirus and the current discontents (wear your mask and maintain good hygiene and distance, though), but keeping people from working will – will – make things worse, not only for individual families who will lose their homes and their livelihoods, but for all of humanity. Categorizing any honest labor as nonessential is uncivilized.
Your job is essential.
Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man’s
happiness, glad of other men’s good, content with my harm, and the greatest of my pride is to
see my ewes graze and my lambs suck.
-Corin, As You Like It III.ii
-30-
The Last Supper via Zoon - unsourced humor
I regret that I don't know the source of this excellent wheeze. If someone does know, please send the information so that I can give credit. Cheers!
Doctrine of Left-Handed Signatures - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
For each its purpose every plant is signed
Embedded by the Maker with intents
In willing service to Creation, then
Maybe we shouldn’t tell them how to live
Because if we humans are signed for plants
Embedded by the Maker with intents
In willing service to Creation, then
Maybe they shouldn’t tell us how to live
Dragging hoses for them, weeding for them,
Buying fertilizer – so who’s the boss?
(This is a bit of fun in homage to fictional Sergeant Hathaway in an Inspector Lewis episode, The Soul of Genius.)
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Doctrine of Left-Handed Signatures
For each its purpose every plant is signed
Embedded by the Maker with intents
In willing service to Creation, then
Maybe we shouldn’t tell them how to live
Because if we humans are signed for plants
Embedded by the Maker with intents
In willing service to Creation, then
Maybe they shouldn’t tell us how to live
Dragging hoses for them, weeding for them,
Buying fertilizer – so who’s the boss?
(This is a bit of fun in homage to fictional Sergeant Hathaway in an Inspector Lewis episode, The Soul of Genius.)
Wednesday, July 8, 2020
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