May 2010
14 posts
I am always unfashionably late.
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Moonchild
Call her moonchild Dancing in the shallows of a river Lovely moonchild Dreaming in the shadow Of the willow.
Talking to the trees of the Cobweb strange Sleeping on the steps of a fountain Waving silver wands to the Night-birds song Waiting for the sun on the mountain.
Shes a moonchild Gathering the flowers in a garden. Lovely moonchild Drifting on the echoes of the hours.
Sailing on the wind...
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mizzles
“It rained the following day, one of those steady mizzles that accompany a drifting fog from the sea”
Daphne Du Maurier, The House on the Strand
Mizzles. My new favourite word.
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Up the airy mountain Down the rushing glen We daren’t go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk Trooping all together Green jacket, red cap And white owl’s feather.
Down along the rocky shore Some make their home They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide-foam; Some in the reeds Of the black mountain lake With frogs for their watch-dogs All night awake.
High on the hill-top...
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When children, frightened by the wolf at the window, were asked what did it want to do, the little boy replied, ‘Gobble me up.’ The little girl said, ‘Let’s ask it.’
Darrian Leader, via Marina Warner’s Monsters Of Our Own Making.
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