We come at last to the dark
and enter in. We are given bodies
newly made out of their absence
from one another in the light
of the ordinary day. We come
to the space between ourselves,
the narrow doorway, and pass through
into the land of the wholly loved,
~ Wendell Berry
Ring out, wild chimes, in the wild wind;
hasten this tired year on its way.
Sweep in, wild hope, with the new day;
our spirits lift, our sad hearts mend.
Ring out the darkness, ring in light –
ring out, wild chimes, o’er all the earth.
Renew us in the year’s rebirth;
ring out the wrong, ring in the right.
~Rebekah Choat
.
October opens with bright
blue mornings, rambles
through red-golden afternoons,
then slips away one
shiver-shadowed night.
~Rebekah Choat
And so September
ends, in shadow and sunlight,
in sorrow and hope.
~ Rebekah Choat
It was many and many a year ago –
seventy-five or -six summers or so –
near a cluster of cottages by the sea;
I can picture it still in my memory.
I was a child, and she was a child,
and I was solemn, and she was wild,
but we loved with a love that was more than love,
mixed with salt and the sea and the sun above.
We lived through that summer in fairy-tale land –
two sunburnt princesses, hair full of sand.
Then our mothers packed up, and we left with the tide
for our distant home-places; she howled, and I cried.
I waited the next year, but she never came;
and I’m never quite sure I remember her name.
~ Rebekah Choat
I missed several days while camping where I couldn’t get internet connection. I’ll be double-posting the next few days to catch up.
Most sand dollars I
find are broken: roughly in
half; irregular
thirds; smaller bits. This whole one,
perhaps, never touched another.
~ Rebekah Choat
Love at first sight? Yes.
Love at eight dozenth sight? Still.
Love at ten thousand,
five hundred twenty-fourth sight?
This is the magic. Always.
~ Rebekah Choat
A mourning dove calls out,
“I am here, I am here;” or
is it, “Where are you?”
~ Rebekah Choat
Linger in the luxury of half-sleep, curled in the comfort of shared sheets.
Cradle the cup in your hands; sip the smoothness of creamy coffee.
Look long into the last fire of the season, bathing your body in its warmth.
Take the paintbrush lightly in your fingertips, just kiss it to the color,
and let the lines flow as they will.
~ Rebekah Choat
