earl grey

Today is a day for curling up with a good book beneath my favorite quilt - Seamus Heaney poems are a delight. A day to listen to the soulful sound of bagpipes - setting the Braveheart soundtrack on repeat. (listen here) A day to browse through books of Irish art - William Conor is my favorite. And a day of drinking warm tea and wearing knee socks.

Brilliant.





Twice Shy

Her scarf a la Bardot,
In suede flats for the walk,
She came with me one evening
For air and friendly talk.
We crossed the quiet river,
Took the embankment walk.

Traffic holding its breath,
Sky a tense diaphragm:
Dusk hung like a backcloth
That shook where a swan swam,
Tremulous as a hawk
Hanging deadly, calm.

A vacuum of need
Collapsed each hunting heart
But tremulously we held
As hawk and prey apart,
Preserved classic decorum,
Deployed our talk with art.

Our Juvenilia
Had taught us both to wait,
Not to publish feeling
And regret it all too late -
Mushroom loves already
Had puffed and burst in hate.

So, chary and excited,
As a thrush linked on a hawk,
We thrilled to the March twilight
With nervous childish talk:
Still waters running deep
Along the embankment walk.

{Seamus Heaney}