…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.
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.
Glad to hear you’re feeling better! We have especial sympathy for toothaches ’round here, seeing as how they served to save Will Barrett from himself.
Louise,
Look forward to your words of wisdom!
Best,
JOB
I meant to say until she appeared to move to the space above me in her flat.
Best photo yet? I think maybe.
Photo: There but for the grace of the poem go I….
Hrrrmmph!