fringe

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On the Grasshopper and the Cricket

John Keats (1795-1821)
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The poetry of earth is never dead:

When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,

And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run

From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;

That is the Grasshopper’s—he takes the lead

In summer luxury,—he has never done

With his delights; for when tired out with fun

He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.

The poetry of earth is ceasing never:

On a lone winter evening, when the frost

Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills

The Cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever,

And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,

The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hills. December 30, 1816.

You may not know that I take a 4 mile walk,

usually during the lunch hour,

usually with Ron,

usually 5 days a week.

Yesterday was particularly beautiful.

The sky so crystal clear blue.

The hills green and sprinkled with wildflowers.

The hawks soaring magnificently.

We paused here and there so that I

could capture the day with my phone camera.

I wanted to share the feeling of the day

with you, dear hearts.

By the way,

I have a couple of exciting blog features

coming up in the next couple of days.

Two lovely, beautiful ladies

will soon feature a tidbit or two

{of the Fringe variety}

on their gorgeous blogs.

Stay tuned.

Tomorrow,

the festivities begin!

Yay!

Thank you for visiting,

and

thank you for being you...

Much love!

xo

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