Reading

A Gathering of Poetry | August 2024

August 15, 2024August 15, 2024 annbh3562 Comments

leaf framed view of the water of Walden Pond — On the shores of Walden Pond

As friends return from this year’s Pilgrimage, I am drawn back to the sights and learnings of my own travels to Massachusetts in 2022 and especially our memorable day in Concord. We followed the same amble that Emerson would have walked to visit his friend Ralph, who had gone “…to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life.” And, it provides the perfect opportunity to re-visit Mary Oliver.

Going to Walden
It isn’t very far as highways lie.
I might be back by nightfall, having seen
The rough pines, and the stones, and the clear water.
Friends argue that I might be wiser for it.
They do not hear that far-off Yankee whisper:
How dull we grow from hurrying here and there!
Many have gone, and think me half a fool
To miss a day away in the cool country.
Maybe. But in a book I read and cherish,
Going to Walden is not so easy a thing
As a green visit. It is the slow and difficult
Trick of living, and finding it where you are.

On this third Thursday, check out the poetry Bonnie and Kat are sharing.

Bibliographic credit: Oliver, Mary. Devotions: The selected Poems of Mary Oliver. Penguin Press, 2017, pg 430.

Reading

A Gathering of Poetry | July 2024

July 18, 2024July 18, 2024 annbh3561 Comment

close up of a little boy's hands holding a garter snake

Just as the poet reminisces about an evening’s stroll along Elm Creek, I recall our Summer Camp days spent on the shores of Lac Courte Oreilles. Where, in July 2006, Auntie Ann (that’s me) lost the frog but John Lac captured the snake.

An Evening's Stroll by Ed Blair

When July's sun has spent her fierceness on
The sweltering earth; I love to ramble then
Along the narrow banks of dear Elm Creek
And be for one short hour a boy again.
To make the rocks skip o'er the waters smooth
And see the frogs plunge from the water's edge,
And hear the gentle cooing of the dove
Among the elms and from the distant hedge.
Oh, boyhood days ne'er come so near to me
As in these strolls in Summer eve's twilight;
I view again the scenes I love so well
And watch the gentle coming of the night.

With a shout out to Bonny and Kat as we celebrate together a gathering of poetry every third Thursday.

Reading

A Gathering of Poetry | June 2024

June 20, 2024June 11, 2024 annbh3562 Comments

When we brought our home in 1985, several feet of late winter, gray tinged snow hid garden treasures: chives and clematis by the back door, vibrant orange Oriental poppies along the (now gone) fence, and peonies lining the south side of the old garage. While a portion of the peonies were transplanted to Eau Claire, others remain anchoring various gardens on our small Kutzky Park lot. These delicate blossoms were battered in the late May storm that severely damaged the last remaining large elm tree so Jane Kenyon’s poem, Peonies at Dusk, put into words what is missing from my spring flower collection. Perfect for this month’s third Thursday’s Gathering of Poetry.

Peonies at Dusk
White peonies blooming along the porch
send out light
while the rest of the yard grows dim.
Outrageous flowers as big as human
heads! They’re staggered
by their own luxuriance: I had
to prop them up with stakes and twine.
The moist air intensifies their scent,
and the moon moves around the barn
to find out what it’s coming from.
In the darkening June evening
I draw a blossom near, and bending close
search it as a woman searches
a loved one’s face.

Bibliographic credit: Kenyon, Jane. Peonies at Dusk, from Constance: Poems. © Graywolf Press, 1993.

Photo credit: Maryam from Prexels

Reading

A Gathering of Poetry | May 2024

May 16, 2024June 11, 2024 annbh3562 Comments

While our peonies are still tight buds, our two Miss Kim Lilacs will soon lavish our senses with purple blossoms and sweet fragrance, reaffirming exactly what poet Billy Collins knows about a spring day.

Today 

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house

and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies

seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.

And, a thank you to Kat for the reminder that May days are passing and third Thursdays simply demand poetry.

Photo credit: Prexels – Pille Kirsi

Reading

Derek Anderson, 1969-2024

April 27, 2024 annbh3561 Comment

Author Derek Anderson and a group of children each holding a copy of his book, 10 Pigs

Today, I am re-reading the absolutely hilarious counting book, Ten Pigs: An Epic Bath Adventure – one of my favorites! In 2016, I accompanied author/illustrator Derek Anderson on a round of library visits. I sometimes acted as stagehand setting up the gigantic piggy bubble bath and, other times, I served as MC. Derek enchanted hundreds of children, caregivers, and parents as the featured author in the Once Upon a Reader statewide one-book reading program that promoted the early literacy skills to Talk, Sing, Read, Write, and Play. With wonderful memories of visiting libraries and having thoroughly enjoyed his ever-growing collection playful children’s titles, I am deeply saddened to learn of his death. Children’s literature and Minnesota libraries have lost a star.

Reading · Spirituality

Lectio Divina Revisited

March 21, 2024June 11, 2024 annbh3562 Comments

graphic depiction of a flaming chalice on a blue quilted background

The practice of reading, thinking, and praying about a line of scripture was a frequent exercise during my Franciscan and Benedictine school years. At the time, I did not know this by its Latin name, Lectio Divina, but I received a renewed introduction to this practice last evening.

Possibly because of the widespread dissemination of the Rule of St. Benedict, I associated the four-step practice: read, meditate, pray, contemplate, with St. Benedict (480-547 CE) when its origins are earlier and have been adapted through time. There is a Franciscan variation designed by St. Clare of Assisi (1194-1253 CE) and, following St. Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556 CE), the Jesuits expand their mediation into action.

Recognizing that wisdom may be drawn from many sources, a 21^st century adaptation of the Lectio Divina encourages the participant to dwell on sacred words beyond just those of a biblical origin but still integrates four thoughtful steps: begin, pause, reflect, contemplate.

Begin: Read the text slowly.

Pause: Let the words settle.

Reflect: Meditate, pray, or write.

Contemplate: Identify what the text calls you to do.

The appeal of Benedict’s Divine Order is that each day’s text is predetermined. The reader joins a communion of others contemplating those same words. There is extra work required to expand the Lectio Divina to include a modern collection of poetry. Today, on a third Thursday Gathering of Poetry, I will begin my Lectio Divina with words from Lucille Clifton.

True, this isn’t paradise,

but we come at last to love it

for the sweet hay and flowers rising,

for the corn lining up row on row,

for the mourning doves

who open the darkness with song,

for warm rains and forgiving fields,

and for how, each day,

something that loves us

tries to save us.

Graphic credit: © Peg Green

Reading

Book Club: Tom Lake

February 17, 2024February 21, 2024 annbh3561 Comment

Having migrated from Zoom sessions during those closeted days of Covid self-quarantine, The Directors gathered yesterday at a lunch locale for wine toasts, shared desserts and a book discussion. While unusual but delightfully so, we discovered that this library loving, book reading, wine-drinking group of retired friends had landed on a title that we all enjoyed – Ann Patchett’s Tom Lake.

While I have become a regular audiobook listener when knitting, I know I would score miserably low should I take an Iowa Basic Skills comprehension test for any of those titles. I still gravitate towards a hard cover for book club selections. However, for Tom Lake, I was intrigued by the prospect of hearing Meryl Streep read this story and wondered if I would I hear the actress or the voice of the main character? I opted to both read and listen. I read a few chapters and then listened to those same chapters in the audiobook format. At times, I recognized the text well enough that I could anticipate the next phrase and, then again, a detail I missed in reading the ink on paper would be a surprise in my ear. Even though reading² is time consuming, I may repeat this paper copy / audiobook combo for future book club selections.

Synopsis: Three daughters listen and question their mother’s stories about her long-ago budding acting career on stage and screen, her first love, a spotlight on summer-stock, and her life choices; some made with intention and others by happenstance. From the New York stage to poolside Hollywood to a cherry orchard in northern Michigan, the story gently shifts between past and present. Patchett artfully reveals common threads and the different hopes and dreams of each family member.

Reading

A Gathering of Poetry | February 2024

February 15, 2024February 19, 2024 annbh356Leave a comment

When I think about poetry in February, the images of red and pink children’s valentines from the mid-1950s spring to mind or syrupy sweet verses, so I took a different approach for this month’s Gathering of Poetry and visited Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends for Love.

cartoon image holding a sign with a large V

Love

Ricky was “L” but he’s home with the flu,

Lizzie, our “O,” had some homework to do,

Mitchell, “E” prob’ly got lost on the way,

So I’m all of love that could make today.

And, thanks to Kat for reminding me that it is time for a third Thursday poetry post.

Reading

A Gathering of Poetry | January 2024

January 18, 2024 annbh356Leave a comment

branches of yellow leaves against snowy backdrop

As always, Carrie Newcomer offers inspiration in song and verse. I have been saving her poem, Blessings, to share with you on this third Thursday of January, Gathering of Poetry. Perfect as the old year ends and new days unfold…

Blessings

May you wake with a sense of play,
An exultation of the possible.
May you rest without guilt,
Satisfied at the end of a day well done.
May all the rough edges be smoothed,
If to smooth is to heal,
And the edges be left rough,
When the unpolished is more true
And infinitely more interesting.
May you wear your years like a well-tailored coat
Or a brave sassy scarf.
May every year yet to come:
Be one more bright button
Sewn on a hat you wear at a tilt.
May the friendships you’ve sown
Grown tall as summer corn.
And the things you’ve left behind,
Rest quietly in the unchangeable past.
May you embrace this day,
Not just as any old day,
But as this day.
Your day.
Held in trust
By you,
In a singular place,
Called now.

You can join the poetic fun every third Thursday as shared by Bonnie and Kym.

Reading

A Gathering of Poetry | November 2023

November 16, 2023November 16, 2023 annbh3562 Comments

blue vintage china, loaf of bread, and tin coffee pot sitting on a wooden table by a window

I recently found A Gathering of Poetry which encourages poetry loving bloggers to offer a personal salute to a favorite poem or a recently discovered poet by sharing the verses on the third Thursday of the month. (If this is not correct, I hope Kym or Kat will gently nudge me in the right direction.)

As I will help with Sunday morning worship on Thanksgiving weekend, I moved from poem to poem this week seeking that “perfect” reading suitable for this food focused holiday but with a goal not to mention turkeys, pumpkin pie, or marshmallow sweet potato casserole. Our former poet laureate, Joy Harjo, provided the inspiration.

Perhaps the World Ends Here

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.

The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.

We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.

It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.

At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.

This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.

We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.

At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks. Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.

Photo credit: Pexels-pixabay