November 2
That blessed mood in which the burden of the mystery grows lighter, until with a quiet eye we see into the life of things.
Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey (freely rendered)
The Cherries
That blessed mood in which the burden of the mystery grows lighter, until with a quiet eye we see into the life of things.
Sido had hung a scarecrow in the cherry tree. A few days later her daughter found her under that tree, head tilted upward. She was to keep still and look.
A blackbird was eating the cherries. Green and violet gleamed in its black plumage. Sido showed her daughter how the bird used its claw, moved its head and laid bare the stone with its beak. It picked out only the ripest fruit.
The daughter reminded her of the scarecrow. Sido whispered that the bird wasn't bothered by it. But the cherries, the child objected.
Only now did the mother come back to it. Yes, the cherries. By then the blackbird had eaten its fill and flown off. In the wind, the scarecrow's empty hat stirred.
