Poem for Friday and Canal Walk

Evening Hawk
By Robert Penn Warren

From plane of light to plane, wings dipping through
Geometries and orchids that the sunset builds,
Out of the peak's black angularity of shadow, riding
The last tumultuous avalanche of
Light above pines and the guttural gorge,
The hawk comes.

His wing
Scythes down another day, his motion
Is that of the honed steel-edge, we hear
The crashless fall of stalks of Time.

The head of each stalk is heavy with the gold of our error.

Look! Look! he is climbing the last light
Who knows neither Time nor error, and under
Whose eye, unforgiving, the world, unforgiven, swings
Into shadow.

Long now,
The last thrush is still, the last bat
Now cruises in his sharp hieroglyphics. His wisdom
Is ancient, too, and immense. The star
Is steady, like Plato, over the mountain.

If there were no wind we might, we think, hear
The earth grind on its axis, or history
Drip in darkness like a leaking pipe in the cellar.

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Paul had his annual checkup in the morning and the rest of the day off, so we ate lunch together, had an online call with a long-term care insurance agent to get some information, and went to take a walk along the C&O Canal. It was much too cold for turtles, but we saw several squirrels, bluejays, and cardinals in the bushes, lots of geese and ducks in the canal, and a beautiful hawk (I think red-shouldered) in the tree above Lockhouse 10. 

 

The walk was a break while bread was rising before we stopped at Giant for more ingredients, since Paul is making Christmas dinner for his parents. I talked to Laurie on Zoom while he worked on cookies, then we had popcorn chick'n for dinner, then I chatted with fannish friends during the Titans-49ers game. After that, we watched the season finale of The Wheel of Time, whose awesome women I enjoyed despite the big special effects battle!