Monday, January 13, 2014

Poem for Monday, Great Falls, Golden Globes

Going for Water
By Robert Frost

The well was dry beside the door,
  And so we went with pail and can
Across the fields behind the house
  To seek the brook if still it ran;

Not loth to have excuse to go,
  Because the autumn eve was fair
(Though chill), because the fields were ours,
  And by the brook our woods were there.

We ran as if to meet the moon
  That slowly dawned behind the trees,
The barren boughs without the leaves,
  Without the birds, without the breeze.

But once within the wood, we paused
  Like gnomes that hid us from the moon,
Ready to run to hiding new
  With laughter when she found us soon.

Each laid on other a staying hand
  To listen ere we dared to look,
And in the hush we joined to make
  We heard, we knew we heard the brook.

A note as from a single place,
  A slender tinkling fall that made
Now drops that floated on the pool
  Like pearls, and now a silver blade.


Distracted because I'm watching "His Last Vow" with the family so will keep this short. It was a gorgeous day on Sunday, quite the opposite of Saturday, so after lunch we picked up Adam who'd been working at Hebrew school and went to Great Falls. We thought the water might be as high as it was after the December snow melted, but thought it was still pretty high, we could see some of the rocks in the central section of the river. We also saw herons and ducks, plus geese in a place on the island where there isn't usually water, swimming in a temporary watering hole. Someone had left flowers on the bridge to the island, presumably to commemorate someone who had died -- we wondered whether it was the kayaker who drowned over the summer.

I postponed watching Sherlock all the way through for the Golden Globes, which were not really worth it; the best line was Tina Fey's about how George Clooney would rather float away into space than spend time with a woman his own age, the second best line was in the Muppets Most Wanted ad quoting an internet "review" that was a spam ad. I thought Lawrence was cute having no speech prepared since she won last year and didn't expect to win again, but then Bissett embarrassed herself and things got so bad that they should refuse to nominate anyone who won't write out a speech. (And like the Pia Zadora victory, who paid for the Scientologist in the miniseries no one I know loved to beat Bonham Carter, Mirren, Lange, and Ferguson?) The show could have been an hour shorter if they cut people stumbling to the stage. Cate was lovely. I guess I need to see Dallas Buyers Club but I'll still want Twelve Years a Slave to win the Oscar.


Gin G said...

Michelle, I recently acquired a first edition collection of Robert Frost's poems. 1930, signed at Yale in 1932. I love the poems but do not want to add any more wear to the pages. It is a joy to read. Thanks for this poem. I have never read it.

Gin G said...

Beautiful rushing water shots for your Robert Frost poem. I just read that poem, and thought, that sounds familiar. I remembered it from your blog! Sad for the people in West Virginia going for water!

Michelle Erica Green said...

Thank you! I am envious of your Frost book (I have a very nice Franklin Library collection that I found in a used bookstore -- their illustrated Hart Crane edition is the nicest I've ever seen). The situation in West Virginia is such a mess! If terrorists had poisoned water for 300,000 people, we'd be attacking some foreign country, but when it's a corporation I bet there won't even be a criminal inquiry.