rise and root

***

~*~*~*~



The Flame Haired Solstice Dreamer

Cold winter brings the Everfrost and jewels every tree
In a forest new as birth and old as old can be
A flame~haired dreamer wanders there and shelters from the wind
And spins her dreams around the trees to break the ties that bind
She takes her thread and spins anew and how the Greenwood smiles
As she spins a spell for freedom and for her spirit Wylde

The dreamer finds an ancient oak and shelters in his lee
In a forest new as birth and old as old can be
Tis summer now and birdsong weaves its magick through her spells
And humming bees drum drowsily in the foxglove's bells
The dreamer sits beneath the oak with yarn upon her knee
And spins and knits and weaves her dreams and sets her spirit free

***
"When birds fall from the sky and the animals are dying, a new tribe of people...shall come unto the earth from many colors, classes, creeds, who by their actions and deeds shall make the earth green again. they will be known as the warriors of the Rainbow"

Hopi Prophecy

~'perfick'~




rough winds do shake the darling buds of may,
and summer's lease hath all too short a date;
sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,


i adore this and thinking of it yesterday before the migraine hit prompted me to get this, well read book from one of my many, many bookshelves...



it just seems to be the most 'perfick' book to read, while sitting in an english country garden, where the birds are singing, the skies are blue and you are faced with the prospect of gorgeous ripe strawberries for tea!

*~*which takes me to this*~*

Oh, to be in England
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England - now!!

And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops - at the bent spray's edge -
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children's dower
- Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

Robert Browning (1812-1889)

4 comments:

Yarn Over Hook said...

I just love that book and the sonnet:-)
Alison.

ambermoggie said...

I love the Larkins:),they are indeed perfick for this time of year.

Pixiedust said...

Lovely!

I love watching the series of the darling buds of may, but I've never read the book, I think I'd better put it on my wish list.

Hope the migraines gone and your feeling better today. xxx

Granny Sue said...

My mother used to quote this sometimes, laoi, especially when she was feeling homesick for her home in Cambrisgeshire. It's lovely, poignant, and reminds me of her and how her eyes would look when she'd say those first lines.

All things share the same breath~the beast, the tree, the man, the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.



Chief Seattle






Johney Gaul~1915

Johney Gaul~1915
1890-17 september 1918~France