By Sherwood Anderson
In the forest, amid old trees and wet dead leaves, a shrine.
Men on the wet leaves kneeling.
The spirit of God in the air above a shrine.
Now, America, you press your lips to mine,
Feel on your lips the throbbing of my blood.
Christ, come to life and life calling,
Sweet and strong.
Spring. God in the air above old fields.
Farmers marking fields for the planting of the corn.
Fields marked for corn to stand in long straight aisles.
In the spring I press your body down on wet cold new-plowed ground.
Men, give your souls to me.
I would have my sacred way with you.
In the forest, amid old trees and wet dead leaves, a shrine.
Men rising from the kneeling place to sing.
Everywhere in the fields now the orderly planting of corn.
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Quickie because I'm watching Elizabeth with Cheryl (I demanded a break from March Madness, I'm already sick of it and it's only the first full day). Cate and Geoffrey are great, and I must confess that I'd pursue Christopher Eccleston's Norfolk long before Joseph Fiennes' Leicester even if he is a traitor.
Not much else to report: Daniel had a job interview in the middle of the day, so I only got out to enjoy the weather (one bunny, six daffodils, several crocuses, nearly 60 degrees). Adam's friends have a pool going, so he watched more sports today than I ever remember him doing! Photos for the first day of spring, finally:
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