Tidings

 I have lots to say, but my thoughts are jumbled and distracted this morning.

One of our sisters fell in the kitchen and hit the side of her head.  No telling yet of any head injury,

but that certainly distracts me.   

In our local community of eight, we are four in our seventies and four in our eighties. This is one of the eighty-five year olds, so the danger of falling is very real.

We 'll see what happens.

In the meantime, 

image by Lars Van der moor

"My tidings for you: the stag bells,

Winter snows, Summer is gone.

 

Wind high and cold, low the sun,

Short his course, sea running high.

 

Deep-red the bracken, its shape all gone,

The wild goose has raised his wonted cry.

 

Cold has caught the wings of birds.

Season of ice – these are my tidings."

-  Irish Poem, Translated by Caitlin Matthews 

Merlin      photo by Bob Reiter