Child in Red

Sometimes she walks through the village in her
little red dress
all absorbed in restraining herself,
and yet, despite herself, she seems to move
according to the rhythm of her life to come.

She runs a bit, hesitates, stops,
half-turns around...
and, all while dreaming, shakes her head
for or against.
Then she dances a few steps
that she invents and forgets,
no doubt finding out that life
moves on too fast.

It's not so much that she steps out
of the small body enclosing her,
but that all she carries in herself
frolics and ferments.

It's this dress that she'll remember
later in a sweet surrender;
when her whole life is full of risks,
the little red dress will always seem right.

Rilke - translated by A. Poulin

The word from Michael is that Pat McD's annual holiday party is on! Date is Dec 23 starting at 6p. I'm planning to go and then on to the Patio to hear Otis Gibbs and Tad Robinson. (Btw, I've been in touch with Angie Watson (formerly Phelan) and she says to say hello to everyone.)

Below is a poem that Eliza, my neice, wrote when she was 8 years old. I love the line about the paint roller.

Shy

Shy is blue as bluebird's eggs
hidden in a bush.
Shy is a chipmunk
always hiding.
Shy is a cloud
always covering the sun.
Shy is a door
open to some and closed to others.
Shy sounds like a paint roller
rolling paint.
Shy moves like a bunny.
Shy lives in you

the guest house

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

Rumi (translated by Coleman Barks)