A Pause For Beauty
One ought every day at least to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture,
and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words. - Goethe
. . .
“The White Heron,” a poem by John Ciardi
If of thy worldly goods thou art bereft
And in thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left,
Sell one
And with the boon buy hyacinths to feed the soul.
- Ancient Persian verse
The following poem was sent in by a subscriber who enclosed the note “read it aloud three times – you’ll ‘feel’ it land on your pond.”
What lifts the heron leaning on the air
I praise without a name. A crouch, a flare,
a long stroke through the cumulus of trees,
a shaped thought at the sky – then gone. O rare!
Saint Francis, being happiest on his knees,
would have cried Father! Cry anything you please
But praise. By any name or none. But praise
the white original burst that lights
the heron on his two soft kissing kites.
When saints praise heaven lit by doves and rays,
I sit by pond scums till the air recites
It’s heron back. And doubt all else. But praise.
- John Ciardi, from the poem “The White Heron” (1958), The Collected Poems of John Ciardi
. . .
A revised draft of one of the more important chapters of my upcoming book,
What is your objective?
What is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
the latest draft of the entire book:
Creating A Life Worth Living:
The Art Of Living And Creating On Your Own Terms
There will be many revisions prior to publication, projected for November.