On Visiting the Grave of My Stillborn Little Girl

by Elizabeth Gaskell 

 

Sunday July 4th 1836

I made a vow within my soul, O Child,
When thou wert laid beside my weary heart,
With marks of death on every tender part
That, if in time a living infant smiled,
Winning my ear with gentle sounds of love
In sunshine of such joy, I still would save
A green rest for thy memory, O Dove!
And oft times visit thy small, nameless grave.
Thee have I not forgot, my firstborn, though
Whose eyes ne'er opened to my wistful gaze,
Whose sufferings stamped with pain thy little brow;
I think of thee in these far happier days,
And thou, my child, from thy bright heaven see
How well I keep my faithful vow to thee.

May Day snow

Yes, it snowed again starting late last night and falling until five this morning.  We had a total of around eight inches of snow in New Richmond and points south of us had up to fourteen inches of wet, heavy snow.  At three in the morning we lost power, which I knew because the alarm on the computers UPS was going off.  We had power restored at a quarter after six though as a crew fixed a power line just down the street from our house.  I took the dogs out to have a bit of fun while I cleared the snow off my car and took a few photos too.

From the front door of our house at 6:20am, when there was plenty of light thanks to it being May 2nd, hard as that may be to believe given the scene.

I didn't bother shoveling much, except to clear the front steps and walkway for the mail carrier.  It'll all melt soon enough.

The obligatory shot of the deck out back, which I didn't bother to shovel either.

Tucker and Ceilidh out just chillin'.

Out back in a winter wonderland.

A Final Affection

by Paul Zimmer

I love the accomplishments of trees,
How they try to restrain great storms
And pacify the very worms that eat them.
Even their deaths seem to be considered.
I fear for trees, loving them so much.
I am nervous about each scar on bark,
Each leaf that browns. I want to
Lie in their crotches and sigh,
Whisper of sun and rains to come.

Sometimes on summer evenings I step
Out of my house to look at trees
Propping darkness up to the silence.

When I die I want to slant up
Through those trunks so slowly
I will see each rib of bark, each whorl;
Up through the canopy, the subtle veins
And lobes touching me with final affection;
Then to hover above and look down
One last time on the rich upliftings,
The circle that loves the sun and moon,
To see at last what held the darkness up.