Fond Memories of Sevilla.
Un patio de Sevilla.
I saw it, then, white and slender,
a bird made of light.
It walked in the water on its long, slim legs,
as if dancing to a music it could only hear.
For weeks, for months, for years and decades,
through winter dark and summer bright,
through rain and drought, death and rebirth
its soul, one with its master,
the tiger slept.
Like trees shed their leaves and, vulnerable in the winter cold,
expose their branches, naked, to the world,
so writers, word by word
in their stories, reveal their souls.
“Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.”
― Robert Frost
Silent trees in the winter cold,
roots in the snow,
search the sky with naked arms, and dream
of distant summers
A year ago I reviewed Jon M. Sweeney’s The Pope Who Quit, the story of how Peter Morrone, a humble and uncultivated Italian hermit, became Pope in 1294 at the ripe age of 84, taking the name of Pope Celestine V. Unable to cope with the demands of the papacy, he abdicated some months later.
In his book, Jon M. Sweeney tells us how Pope Benedict IX came to pray over the tomb of his Medieval predecessor and suggests he might have been asking him for advice as he considered his own resignation.
When the resignation of Pope Benedict IX was announced last week, I remembered Jon’s prophetic words with awe.
If the news surprised you or made you wonder why this was such a shock for the Catholic community, you may want to read this fascinating story of a time so different from ours when another Pope also resigned.
You can find my whole review at Myshelf.com
It was freezing cold in Lake Galena today.
and the geese, and the ducks.
And the broken tree.
Like my heart.