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| Waterfront on Quiet Days |
Hark! hark! the lark
at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise!
The early bird is the lark or so we believe because it sings at daybreak - but then again, my neighbor keeps chickens and they sing then too. I wondered down into the local village to get a Times and passed by our waterfront - all waves and whitecaps. Early Sunday mornings here, in a settlement that had Englishmen about the time of Shakespeare's death and larks may have been around but mostly we have to read poetry about them or listen to music/recordings that depict their calls. No matter.
What we had this morning that probably the settlers had 350+ years ago was a tablet on which to draw quiet in which to listen. There had to be calm mornings back then - without a wavelet or a cat's paw of motion and the water doing nothing other than reflecting, the details, lines, edges all perfect.
This morning, after a week's worth of pre-holiday hustle and bustle has been an unusually noisy Sunday morning,
I miss the mornings when you could listen all you wanted but you would hear nothing so when a bird woke up the song stood out like red on white.We probably have a lark or two around here although I'd be hard pressed to know it if I saw it. However, I can enjoy Hark Hark a Lark and this very nice Sunday morning music (below), take my harbor walk and imagine things.