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I probably won't be along on Friday night, but I wanted to share this poem with you. I love Hardy. I find his ache for belief moving -'Hoping it might be so' from The Oxen- and have enjoyed his poetry and prose. I chose this poem because I can relate to the way children brighten our waiting experience.

From Melissa

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On a morning sick as the day of doom
 With the drizzling gray
 Of an English May,
There were few in the railway waiting-room.
About its walls were framed and varnished
Pictures of liners, fly-blown, tarnished.
The table bore a Testament
For travellers' reading, if suchwise bent.


 I read it on and on,
 And, thronging the Gospel of Saint John,
 Were figures--additions, multiplications -
By some one scrawled, with sundry emendations;
 Not scoffingly designed,
 But with an absent mind, -
 Plainly a bagman's counts of cost,
 What he had profited, what lost;
And whilst I wondered if there could have been
 Any particle of a soul
 In that poor man at all,


 To cypher rates of wage
 Upon that printed page,
 There joined in the charmless scene
And stood over me and the scribbled book
 (To lend the hour's mean hue
 A smear of tragedy too)
A soldier and wife, with haggard look
Subdued to stone by strong endeavour;
 And then I heard
 From a casual word
They were parting as they believed for ever.


 But next there came
 Like the eastern flame
Of some high altar, children--a pair -
Who laughed at the fly-blown pictures there.
"Here are the lovely ships that we,
Mother, are by and by going to see!
When we get there it's 'most sure to be fine,
And the band will play, and the sun will shine!"


It rained on the skylight with a din
As we waited and still no train came in;
But the words of the child in the squalid room
Had spread a glory through the gloom.

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On a morning sick as the day of doom With the drizzling gray Of an English May,There were few in the railway waiting-room.About its walls were framed and varnishedPictures of liners, fly-blown, tarnished.The table bore a TestamentFor travellers' reading, if suchwise bent.

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Sorry that Shayne & I will miss this fun filled night now. We had prepared & want to share our contributions. My poem share is a children's poem & It reflects my thoughts about what we miss when we don't 'wait' well ( see attached).Shayne's share is a delicious bean dip recipe, Mmm. Bless you all Bron xx

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Roasted Garlic and White Bean Dip With Rosemary

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Roasted Garlic and White Bean Dip With Rosemary

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the master of silly rhyme Dr Suess...all I'm up for atm....

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the master of silly rhyme Dr Suess...all I'm up for atm....

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but also a clip I made and uploaded about waiting....just a drawing...not a poem....click link below to wait and draw ....
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HlUzSBr2emQ

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The Porter's Gate - Daughters of Zion (feat. Josh Garrels & Casey J) (Official Lyric Video)

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Bible Gateway passage: Job 13 - The Message

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I'm Taking My Case to God - "Yes, I've seen all this with my own eyes, heard and understood it with my very own ears. Everything you know, I know, so I'm not taking a backseat to any of you. I'm taking my case straight to God Almighty; I've had it with you-I'm going directly to God.

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Window Poems - Wendell Berry - The Hudson Review Vol 21, No. 2, pp 288-289 (19680

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Window Poems - Wendell Berry - The Hudson Review Vol 21, No. 2, pp 288-289 (19680

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The country where he lives
is haunted
by the ghost of an old forest.
In the cleared fields
where he gardens
and pastures his horses
it stood once,
and will return. There will be
a resurrection of the wild.
Already it stands in wait
at the pasture fences.
It is rising up
in the waste places of the cities.
When the fools of the capitals
have devoured each other
in righteousness,
and the machines have eaten
the rest of us, then
there will be the second coming
of the trees. They will come
straggling over the fences
slowly, but soon enough.
The highways will sound
with the feet of the wild herds,
returning. Beaver will ascend
the streams as the trees
close over them.
The wolf and the panther
will find their old ways
through the nights. Water
and air will flow clear.
Certain calamities
will have passed,
and certain pleasures.
The wind will do without
corners. How difficult
to think of it: miles and miles
and no window.

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https://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/white-beans-broccoli-rabe-lemon

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My head peers over the edge

the edge of the water

into the water she enters, transparent

translucent now and still shapeless yet I know she is there

The water ripples as her edges change colour

the edges of her gown she wears

the gown she wears to cloth her splendor

her splendor I am yet to see fully, but I know what is to come

Her gentle water dance continues

a dance as she floats, a dance as she sinks

and she floats and sinks and becomes more white

her white gown shrouding her still mysterious heart

I watch as each minute passes

each minute a thousand breaths

each breathes a gasp, as she continues her transformation

her continual journey from one life to this life

and now I see her heart, her soul, her essence forming

the essence of her whole life

and this life that I have placed her in

placed, in my care

finally the time has arrived

the time for her exit from her birthplace

freed from her shell of entrapment

birthed into water, air, ground

I gentley cup her form, still tender

the gentle lift that has been entrusted to me

lifted, carefully from the water

carefully placed onto her green mound of resting

She is not my beloved that I have rescued

my beloved is beside me watching this wonder

this wonder is for her

as I speak gently to her

Your breakfast is ready, poached egg on avacado and toast.