Poem for Saturday and Homestead Farm

Refugee Blues
By W.H. Auden

Say this city has ten million souls,
Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes:
Yet there's no place for us, my dear, yet there's no place for us.

Once we had a country and we thought it fair,
Look in the atlas and you'll find it there:
We cannot go there now, my dear, we cannot go there now.

In the village churchyard there grows an old yew,
Every spring it blossoms anew:
Old passports can't do that, my dear, old passports can't do that.

The consul banged the table and said,
"If you've got no passport you're officially dead":
But we are still alive, my dear, but we are still alive.

Went to a committee; they offered me a chair;
Asked me politely to return next year:
But where shall we go to-day, my dear, but where shall we go to-day?

Came to a public meeting; the speaker got up and said;
"If we let them in, they will steal our daily bread":
He was talking of you and me, my dear, he was talking of you and me.

Thought I heard the thunder rumbling in the sky;
It was Hitler over Europe, saying, "They must die":
O we were in his mind, my dear, O we were in his mind.

Saw a poodle in a jacket fastened with a pin,
Saw a door opened and a cat let in:
But they weren't German Jews, my dear, but they weren't German Jews.

Went down the harbour and stood upon the quay,
Saw the fish swimming as if they were free:
Only ten feet away, my dear, only ten feet away.

Walked through a wood, saw the birds in the trees;
They had no politicians and sang at their ease:
They weren't the human race, my dear, they weren't the human race.

Dreamed I saw a building with a thousand floors,
A thousand windows and a thousand doors:
Not one of them was ours, my dear, not one of them was ours.

Stood on a great plain in the falling snow;
Ten thousand soldiers marched to and fro:
Looking for you and me, my dear, looking for you and me.

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My house is full of miniature attack demons who come flying out of nowhere and pounce, swat and hiss at all longtime residents. Worse, it is no longer to confine them to just the upstairs because Effie has discovered that she can go flying over the barrier and down the stairs, meaning that unless we lock them in one room, which probably signifies doom for that room, they have the full run of the house at all times. Poor Cinnamon may never stop yowling!

Apart from posting a review of Voyager's "Meld", the highlights of my day included a trip to Petco to get more kitty litter, a stop at Target to pick up Adele's album with their three exclusive bonus tracks, and dinner at my parents' house. Later we watched Maryland beat Rider and Michigan lose to Xavier, then caught up on Thursday's Sleepy Hollow with all its lovely Ichabbie and Mills Sisters. Some photos from harvest season at Homestead Farm last month: