Thursday, April 21, 2011

Don't Carry It All

It was just a little hard to open my peepers this morning.  Bedtime wars with Nolie again last night, though after waking at midnight and crying for a while she finally fell asleep in her bed and stayed there until morning.  My back hurt from sitting all day yesterday.  Faithful feedback mechanism.

But there was coffee, and then the rain came down in great, pounding sheets.  We skyped with E, who is using someone else's computer and comes through as user "Luca Piazza."  We enjoy saying that, over and over.




On the way to drop the kids off, the sun broke through, and the mountains were covered in fog, and every last thing seemed unbelievably green--the pregnancy of spring.  Nolie and I were quiet in the car, just looking at it all, sleepy but grateful for the startling beauty of the morning.

This is my anthem for the week.  Death, rebirth, surrender, acceptance, giving.  It's got it all.  Give it a listen.


Here we come to a turning of the season,
witness to the arc towards the sun,
the neighbors blessed burden within reason,
becomes a burden borne of all in one,
but nobody nobody knows,
let the yoke fall from our shoulders,
don’t carry it all don’t carry it all,
we are all our hands in holders,
but meet this bold and brilliant sun,
but this I swear to all
A monument to build beneath the arbors,
upon a cliff the that towers towards the trees,
but every vessel pitching hard to starboard,
lay it’s head on summers freckled knees,
and nobody nobody knows,
let the yoke fall from our shoulders,
don’t carry it all don’t carry it all,
we are all our hands in holders,
beneath this bold and brilliant sun,
this I swear to all, this I swear to all
Buried wreath of trillium and ivy,
laid upon the body of the boy,
lazy will the long come from it’s hiding,
return his quiet certitude to the soil,
so raise a glass to turnings of the season,
and watch it as it arcs towards the sun,
and you must bear your neighbors burden within reason,
and your labors will be borne when all is done, and nobody nobody knows,
let the yoke fall from our shoulders,
don’t carry it all don’t carry it all,
we are all our hands in holders,
beneath this bold and brilliant sun
and this I swear to all
and this I swear to all
and this I swear to all
to all
to all
to all

1 comment:

  1. Cool, cool anthem.

    All the it's's are wrong. Just so's you knows.

    Love you nutsy!

    Nan

    ReplyDelete