The Empty Sky

Cloudless, I agree, but not empty.

Bird-free at the moment, perhaps.

Even the wind is invisible

exactly because no drifting clouds

reveal its passing presence.

 

And yet this empty sky is full of mysteries,

full of unseen beings that we intuit

but that we deny or discount

when imagination fails us.

 

Since nothing can be proven either way,

is it not more joyful and more beautiful

to posit the empty sky as pulsating

with invisible Spirit?

 

I don't think that's the same

as Monsieur Pascal's waffling wager.

But maybe it is.

 

 

Copyright © 2019 Ann Tudor
Food blog: http://fastandfearlesscooking.blogspot.ca

Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00JI4758O

 

Summer Breezes

No sheets flap to the rhythm

of today's summer breezes.

No shirts dangle from their tails,

sleeves twisting like acrobatic arms

beside the collared neck.

 

No. We're a civilized tribe now,

eschewing contact with nature

whenever we can in favour of convenience.

Each generation teaches the next

so that soon there remains no racial memory

of how to clip the sock toes, paired;

how to overlap the tea towel edges

for greatest efficiency;

how to choose the sunniest spot,

the sunniest hours of the day;

and how to watch the Western sky for signs of rain

so all the hanging wash can be gathered in,

safe and dry,

before the opening clouds

spoil the day's labours.

 

 

Copyright © 2019 Ann Tudor
Food blog: http://fastandfearlesscooking.blogspot.ca

Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00JI4758O

 

Learning by Heart

I like minimalist poets and short poems so I can make it through to the end in one go. I am abashed to admit that the very act of reading poetry makes me lose interest in reading poetry.

 

I want to love poetry. I want to have a mind filled with lines—whole stanzas, even—of poetry to entertain me

when I can't sleep or should I ever find myself in solitary confinement—though I'll admit that at this stage of my life

being in solitary is less likely than the possibility of a sleepless night.

 

A year or two ago, in response to Kim Rosen's Saved by a Poem, I determined to learn by heart "The Art of Losing", by Elizabeth Bishop. It's a poem I adore for its cleverness

of form, among other things. I worked and worked and worked on learning that poem by heart. Here's what I remember: "The art of losing isn't hard to master . . ."

 

That's the first line. The art of losing is even easier than Ms. Bishop imagined, if what you're losing is your memory.

 

 

Copyright © 2019 Ann Tudor
Food blog: http://fastandfearlesscooking.blogspot.ca

Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00JI4758O