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ambitious_wenchPoem: "From Blossoms," by Li-Young Lee, from Rose (Boa Editions).
From Blossoms
From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.
From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.
O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
Well, rehearsals have concluded for King Richard's Faire. For good or ill, our characters have been set, tweeked, fiddled with, primped, coddled. Actors have become family. Family has gotten tedious, and tempers have flaired.
Spoiled children, Self-centered divas, bewildered newbies, all interspersed with talent, grace, joy, patience, generousity, and kindness. Thank the gods the later is more common than the former.
Musically, we rock this year. We have an outstanding musical director and some outstanding talent. I can't believe our good fortune. Gary is taking us over new music. I am so glad of that. it gets old singing the same songs over and over.
Gytha MacGregor is quite fun to play. She's lady in waiting to the princess of Italy, come to compete for the title of Queen of the realm. She used to be the royal maid, and was sent off to school to learn to clean. She married a prince, (who subsequently died, as did his 11 successors, under odd circumstances). Hence, she is now a Princess. It's my job to see to it that she behaves like one.
"But, your highness, you must allow me to...."
"Aw, don' choo worry about it, I'm a princess-a, I canna do whatevah I wanna"
"But, but, your grace!"
All this in a heavy Scots brogue.
*grin*
Minor details to hammer out:
Hair--need to find someone who can french braid my hair each morning.
Hat--combs ain't gonna cut it. Need to be able to bobby pin it on.
Tartan: Need a couple of lengths for over the shoulder and for my basket
Basket: Need a bigger, stronger one. The one I have is not gonna hold.
Hoop Skirt: @#$%^&*()_+_)(*&^%$#@@!!!!!!
Bug spray: get more, the damn can didn't work.
Well, off to work on that damn hoop skirt.
From Blossoms
From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.
From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.
O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
Well, rehearsals have concluded for King Richard's Faire. For good or ill, our characters have been set, tweeked, fiddled with, primped, coddled. Actors have become family. Family has gotten tedious, and tempers have flaired.
Spoiled children, Self-centered divas, bewildered newbies, all interspersed with talent, grace, joy, patience, generousity, and kindness. Thank the gods the later is more common than the former.
Musically, we rock this year. We have an outstanding musical director and some outstanding talent. I can't believe our good fortune. Gary is taking us over new music. I am so glad of that. it gets old singing the same songs over and over.
Gytha MacGregor is quite fun to play. She's lady in waiting to the princess of Italy, come to compete for the title of Queen of the realm. She used to be the royal maid, and was sent off to school to learn to clean. She married a prince, (who subsequently died, as did his 11 successors, under odd circumstances). Hence, she is now a Princess. It's my job to see to it that she behaves like one.
"But, your highness, you must allow me to...."
"Aw, don' choo worry about it, I'm a princess-a, I canna do whatevah I wanna"
"But, but, your grace!"
All this in a heavy Scots brogue.
*grin*
Minor details to hammer out:
Hair--need to find someone who can french braid my hair each morning.
Hat--combs ain't gonna cut it. Need to be able to bobby pin it on.
Tartan: Need a couple of lengths for over the shoulder and for my basket
Basket: Need a bigger, stronger one. The one I have is not gonna hold.
Hoop Skirt: @#$%^&*()_+_)(*&^%$#@@!!!!!!
Bug spray: get more, the damn can didn't work.
Well, off to work on that damn hoop skirt.