Harp Song of the Danish Women

What is a woman that you forsake her,
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,
To go with the old grey Widow-maker?

She has no house to lay a guest in—
But one chill bed for all to rest in,
That the pale suns and the stray bergs nest in.

She has no strong white arms to fold you,
But the ten-times-fingering weed to hold you—
Out on the rocks where the tide has rolled you.

Yet, when the signs of summer thicken,
And the ice breaks, and the birch-buds quicken,
Yearly you turn from our side, and sicken—

Sicken again for the shouts and the slaughters.
You steal away to the lapping waters,
And look at your ship in her winter-quarters.

You forget our mirth, and talk at the tables,
The kine in the shed and the horse in the stables—
To pitch her sides and go over her cables.

Then you drive out where the storm-clouds swallow,
And the sound of your oar-blades, falling hollow,
Is all we have left through the months to follow.

Ah, what is Woman that you forsake her,
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,
To go with the old grey Widow-maker ?

Classic poem shared on the Harp List by Jon Murphy

Worship

I met the Beloved today,

under a drowsy Ent (‘tis autumn),

in the cool morning twilight,

in the pre-dawn silence.

Selah.

agd 11.8.2015

Shepherd's Retreat Ctr.

From My Bed

The earth spins …

through narrow slats

and stars float

thru the sky.

I spin …

and my world becomes

a snow globe.

The galaxy spins …

And who gives a shit?

Hafiz!

Make me a sandwich …

Please.

agd

11.8.2015

Retreat

Grateful

Grateful time

to be ---

No cats,

No students,

No planning,

No cooking,

No mowing,

No cldaning.

Just grateful --- to be.

Thanks.

Harp Retreat

Shepherd’s Spring Retreat Center

Sharpsburg, MD

 agd 11.8.2015

Changes

Changes

Summer yawns deeply,

And the sun dims.

Yet in the waning light

the fires of autumn burn brightly –

in reds, oranges, yellows and greens.

Day to day,

the fires delight

‘til frost and cold

steal the fire’s glow,

leaving the landscape

dotted with browns and ash

‘til winter’s icy winds

bare the branches naked,

readied for the snow and ice

to grace their limbs

‘til the sun burns brighter once more

to wake the sleeping earth.

agd 10.31.2015