sleep

The Waking

Gill Washington God, Nature, Poems, Spirituality, Theodore Roethke , , 0 Comment

By Theodore Roethke

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close behind me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lonely worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air;
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

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To Dream of Spring

Gill Washington Chris Roe, Poems, Spirituality , , , 0 Comment

By Chris Roe

Harvest is gathered,
Fields lay bare,
Already turned to the plough.
Pheasant and partridge lose their cover.
Grain piled high in the barn,
Straw stacked for winter use.

The evening breeze, sharper, cooler,
Colours, dancing on the autumn wind.
Trees in winter silhouette,
An early morning frost,
A dusting of snow,
Cold, dark, winter evenings.

A glowing fire in the grate,
Another log brightens the flame,
A warm drink,
A comfortable chair,
Time to rest,
To sleep,
To dream of spring.

The above poem is from

In Search of Silence

a collection of 45 poems written by Chris Roe including 7 watercolour prints by his brother Paul

Visit Silent Flight Publications for more details

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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Gill Washington Poems, Robert Frost, Spirituality , , 0 Comment

 

Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.