Innisfree

Please click on “play”

poem by Yeats, of course; music by me


I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the mourning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

 

Little Me, Big Tree

Little me, big tree

Little me, big tree

Called in a tree expert to save this mighty white pine, looking sick. He says I have to water it. How long does it take from my hose to  the roots? As far down as it grows up? I’m so small, humbled.

The white pine’s so near the lake, but being that close doesn’t mean it isn’t parched.

The Earth is precisely
the right size to cast
a round shadow that fits
exactly on the moon.

I was told this
by a man I once loved
as if it were common knowledge
as if
it were true.

I need, all the time, something
to be true.

A globe
casting its penny
into heaven’s river.

What to do
with such a
silvered ship?

And how to keep
from dying of thirst,
bottle of water in hand?

 

My watering set up

My watering method

 

 

How near is the water!

How near the water!