“I caught this morning morning’s minion…”
Hello!
Today’s post is based on a little-note-to-self I recently found while clearing up my desk. I actually wrote it during a lockdown in 2020. In Melbourne at the time, we were allowed out for 1 hour’s exercise a day, so I would take my walk at dawn and have the nearby creek-lands nearly to myself.
For some reason I would recite snatches of poetry inside my head. It soothed me after a night of disturbed sleep and bad dreams. Another thing that helped me to pull my addled, gloomy head together was birdsong. “There’s no Trump or Covid or NewsCorp” in their world, I would think. The birds always sounded so abundantly alive during their dawn chorus. So, it’s no wonder that I often recited to myself Gerard Manly Hopkins’ The Windhover:
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