The clouds have left the sky,The wind hath left the sea,The half-moon up on highShrinketh her face of dree She lightens on the combOf leaden waves, that roarAnd thrust their hurried foamUp on the dusky shore. Behind the western barsThe shrouded day retreats,And unperceived the starsSteal to their sovran seats. And whiter grows the foam,The…
Waking up early I dress straight away and head outside for the Spring performance. Birdsong in spring is like no other time of year, and you must be out there early to catch the peak. Soon the tall pines caught the wind and danced together with it in a song of their own. And the…
But at my back I always hearTime’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;And yonder all before us lieDeserts of vast eternity… Let us roll all our strength and allOur sweetness up into one ball,And tear our pleasures with rough strifeThrough the iron gates of life:Thus, though we cannot make our sunStand still, yet we will make him…
Sometimes it takes darkness and thesweetconfinement of your alonenessto learnanything and anyonethat does not bring you alive is too small for you.– David Whyte, Sweet Darkness I woke up in the middle of the night thinking of Todd Rundgren’s Hello It’s Me and hearing it anew in my head. It’s always been a breakup song,…
There is no dusk to be,There is no dawn that was,Only there’s now, and now,And the wind in the grass. Days I remember ofNow in my heart, are now;Days that I dream will bloomWhite the peach bough. Dying shall never beNow in the windy grass;Now under shooken leavesDeath never was.– Archibald MacLeish, An Eternity I…
What if this road, that has held no surprisesthese many years, decided not to gohome after all; what if it could turnleft or right with no more adothan a kite-tail? What if its tarry skinwere like a long, supple bolt of cloth,that is shaken and rolled out, and takesa new shape from the contours beneath?And…
What is preciousinside us does notcare to be knownby the mindin ways that diminishits presence.-David Whyte, The Winter of Listening A storm pivots around New England, sideways rain one minute, bright sunshine the next. Cold wind pushing the swirling mix about, demanding attention. I step outside and look for the rainbow that must be out…
There where it is we do not need the wall:He is all pine and I am apple orchard.My apple trees will never get acrossAnd eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonderIf I could put a notion in his…
“Poetry is language against which we have no defenses.” – David Whyte I’ve been spending a bit of time with David Whyte lately, catching up on words I ought to have read long ago but wasn’t ready to hear. I was a different person then, more closed to the world despite the outward bravado. You…
Just beyondyourself. It’s whereyou needto be. Half a stepintoself-forgettingand the restrestoredby whatyou’ll meet. – David Whyte, Just Beyond Yourself Reaching beyond yourself can be frustrating, humbling and sometimes humiliating. The ego wants to be in a happier place, warmly wrapped up in comfortable self-talk and stretching just far enough… but not too far. But that’s…
