Busy week, this one. No more snow; gentle rains; sunshine; green leaves and grass; Springtime in the Rockies, I think some have called it. Life returns, renewed; the world is vibrant once again! So, why mess with politics when ‘out there’ things are actually ALIVE!
I did it. Hoping for a sojourn in a different and more pleasant world, I took a break. Took a camera too, along with a slow early morning walk around the local lake. In the process I enjoyed numerous engaging interacts with feathered friends, i.e. dozens of Canadian Goose moms and pops, most with their still-fuzzy youngsters in tow. Fascinating to watch how their real world works, and then to realize that even an hour or so of mingling within it can serve to change one’s outlook, to remove that veil of drudgery and offer hints that there still is room to Hope for better times out here in our world.
I have to wonder, now, looking back, if maybe Emily Dickinson might have described the bulk of what one finds ‘out there’ in that ‘other’ world when she posited that —
“Hope” is the thing with feathers —
That perches in the soul —
And sings the tune without the words —
And never stops — at all —
And sweetest — in the Gale — is heard —
And sore must be the storm —
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm —
I’ve heard it in the chillest land —
And on the strangest Sea —
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb — of Me.
Feathered critters a metaphor for hope? You betcha! Illustrations below!
“Hope” IS the thing with feathers –
Meanwhile, in the REAL world, there’s been nothing in the news aside from the usual and typical doom and gloom that’s come to pretty much define “civilization” in this country and around the globe, including but sadly not limited to ever-ongoing war and threats (to randomly name just a few) of ever more war; climate change-inspired droughts, wildfires, floods, and killer storms; mass kidnapping of young girls in Nigeria; mass murder of college kids in California; Erick Erickson’s thesis that the war on women is bogus, that the REAL war is the war on masculinity (his, apparently) . . . oh, and lest we forget, there’s that Colorado dinosaur that drowned in Noah’s flood, bones soon to be on display in Kentucky’s currently-under-construction Noah’s Ark Creationist Park, or whatever the hell they call it.
Better the company of that thing with feathers — That perches in the soul — And sings the tune without the words. Interesting how the composite beauties of life in the natural world can still manage to overcome the dismal realities of human failure, can still manage to inspire Hope. I know. I’m a regular visitor ‘out there’ and can testify with authority that in spite of it’s lavish gifts, it has never, in Extremity . . . asked a crumb — of Me.
*honk honk honk*