Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Cool-spooky shadow cast at night by the streetlights in Lincoln Park.
One of my great teachers in San Francisco told me that poetry, at this time of year, "cracks the ice in the heart of the earth," which apparently is necessary in order to remind her that though it's not yet spring, maybe she could begin to kick the machinery of spring into gear. He said that second part a lot more eloquently than I have here.
With that in mind, I proclaim the following: February will be Poetry Month at the chateau. I will ask dinner guests to bring a poem with them; after we eat, we can sit in the living room by the "fire" (three pillar candles) and read some poems aloud to each other.
It's kind of exciting to need poetry in DC. Our winters are so gentle compared with the harsh season in the midwest, also north of the Mason-Dixon line. Though somewhat warmer and much dryer than elsewhere, in DC we have had a Real Winter so far. Hence: poetry month at the chateau.
To kick off poetry month, (I know it isn't yet February, but I'm jazzed) here's one of my very favorite ice poems. I know it's rather dark, but I like it. Actually - I think it's funny.
Stay warm, y'all! Shalom.
They say the ice will hold
so there I go,
forced to believe them by my act of trusting people,
stepping out on it,
and naturally it gaps open
and I, forced to carry on coolly
by my act of being imperturbable,
slide erectly into the water wearing my captain's helmet,
waving to the shore with a sad smile,
"Goodbye my darlings, goodbye dear one,"
as the ice meets again over my head with a click.