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Wednesday
As Shakespeare would say, rough winds are currently shaking our darling buds, with gusts of up to 45 miles an hour bringing in unseasonably cold temperatures. At the same time, the green wave is well underway, having finally—for the most part—worked its way to the top of the Sewanee mountain. This gives me an excuse to share this lovely Patrick Kavanagh poem, about one tree that is taking its time about getting with the program:
To a Late Poplar
Not yet half-drest
O tardy bride!
And the priest
And the bridegroom and the guests
Have been waiting a full hour.
The meadow choir
Is playing the wedding march
Two fields away,
And squirrels are already leaping in ecstasy
Among leaf-full branches.
Ah yes, we’ve had more than our fill of ecstatic squirrels. For most of the trees, the wedding march is well underway.
