Reset Forty-Five, Day Thirty-Two
Nov. 6th, 2022 07:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphAll gray Saturday I waited for the rain, but it never came. With no particular desire to eat anything more after the two small donuts I called breakfast, I let the afternoon slip away, and then had a few spoons full of a deliciously smooth and cool chocolate ice cream. The sun set, and I began to feel sleepy. I contemplated opening a can of soup, but decided to nap instead. It wasn't difficult to nod off, and I woke up shortly after midnight. There was a sound like a wheelie bin being dragged along the driveway, but it didn't get any closer or farther away, so I knw it must be something else. I got up and looked outside and saw the lights reflecting on wet pavement. The sound was water falling through the metal downspout.
When I got outside it turned out to be less rain than a heavy mist, which has continued since. This has conjured memories of misty nights long ago when I walked for miles through the damp streets of Los Angeles, a city now vanished into myth. It was warmer there, and pleasant to walk through mist, but I wouldn't want to do it here, even if I still had the energy for such exploits. Still, it's nice to know the mist is out there as I return to sleep, and I finally felt like eating a bit, though it was only some peanut butter and crackers. Maybe I'll feel like eating more when I wake up. After all, today is another day.
Sunday Verse
by Theodore Roethke
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
When I got outside it turned out to be less rain than a heavy mist, which has continued since. This has conjured memories of misty nights long ago when I walked for miles through the damp streets of Los Angeles, a city now vanished into myth. It was warmer there, and pleasant to walk through mist, but I wouldn't want to do it here, even if I still had the energy for such exploits. Still, it's nice to know the mist is out there as I return to sleep, and I finally felt like eating a bit, though it was only some peanut butter and crackers. Maybe I'll feel like eating more when I wake up. After all, today is another day.
Sunday Verse
The Waking
by Theodore Roethke
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
