It’s the last blog of the year so it feels like it should be important. But it isn’t. Sorry. No big news to report. No ambitious resolutions to tell you about. As my friend Tena Russ posted on FB, “I don’t have resolutions. I have vague intentions.”
I did have a poem published in December; if you want to check it out, visit Dodging the Rain and read “When I said I love you.” Disclaimer: it isn’t very jolly.
2020. I guess if anything, I will take the year literally and try to focus and see things clearly (though my intentions may be vague). While I’m on the subject of how to interpret things, the trees across the creek are the new hangout of two long-eared owls. I’m trying to figure out what or if their visit portends anything.
While you’re singing Auld Lang Syne tonight, you might consider doing a chorus of “A red, red rose.” Here are the words:
A Red, Red Rose
By Robert Burns
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.
My intentions may be vague but my wishes to you are crystal clear:
Peace, love, and solace