"Under a speckless sky." Jane Siberry's old album title comes to mind, as i gaze up. And the sky is also a "Wedgewood blue", as a local bus-driver described it to me, t'other day. Both descriptions in my head, around early morning Dorchester, with cold fingers and toes, for first time, this winter - but an interstingly pleasant feeling on the skin - much like the cold of 4am-yoga, on leaving my warm bed. i envy the climate of the Black Sea Caucusses, with average year-round temperature of 55 degrees f. Only the cooking stove for warmth. Rug-up and work hard, i say, much like the 17th century pilgrims to the New World would have done. And i applaud the sentiment of old, now-deceased poet-friend, TED ENSLIN, from Maine, in that New World, who wrote, (in "THE COUNTRY OF OUR CONSCIOUSNESS").... "I tend to congratulate a life - that lived - is harder than it need be." So appropriate then, that i have here, an image of THE TOLPUDDLE MARTYRS (by ELIZABETH FRINK) - it would be right up Ted Enslin's street, i'm pretty sure. It's certainly right up the street, here in Dorchester, for all time.
No comments:
Post a Comment