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Advent, the Nineteenth Day: Timorous Beastie

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…pusillanimes confortamini, et nolite timere…

And Burns again – whose tag I thought was Shakespeare’s,
The one about the plans of mice and men –
Corrects my mortal thoughts. His wit deducts hairs
That bless my beard – as needlepoint design
Unravels from its loom or raftered scantling
Unwinds from central beam. Dismantling
Such doom, I sip at Timorous Beastie, neat
As Robbie’s lines: “…beneath the blast Thou thought
To dwell till – Crash! The cruel coulter past” and,
Alas, a homeless thing… But solace lifts
A glass, this Advent’s nineteenth day, and gifts
Awaiting be upon us – glad and chastened
To know that God provides for men and mice
No better plan than what will best suffice.

Comments

  1. Louise Orrock says:

    I haven’t left comments recently, having started to read your website again, because I’ve had bad toothache, but I am feeling better now, until the woman upstairs moved to the computer.

  2. Louise Orrock says:

    I meant to say until she appeared to move to the space above me in her flat.

  3. Broderick Barker says:

    Best photo yet? I think maybe.

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