Fellowship

FELLOWSHIP

by Edgar Guest

The earth is warmed by the kindly sun,
but lives are warmed by the deeds of men
and their words of praise when our best we’ve done
and the parting wish that we’ll meet again.

The clouds may blanket the sky with gray
and the earth grow chill as the rain descends,
but he shall keep smiling along his way
whose heart is warmed by the love of friends.

It’s the glad “hello” and the handclasp true,
the smile of joy on a friendly face,
that means contentment for me and you
and makes of the earth a happy place.

It isn’t the gold that we strive to earn,
nor the fame we struggle so long to win,
for these are glories we’d quickly spurn
if never a kind heart took us in.

The poorest man on this earth is he
who has bartered his friendships for selfish gain,
who has sought advantage by trickery
and seeks for a welcoming smile in vain.

For the earth is warmed by a higher plan,
and he shall be glad when his work is done
who has kept the faith with his fellow man,
and the peace of his own conscience won.

“Something to Sing About”

Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning: NATION

Since everyone has a nation, a place they call home, and hopefully likes their own land, there should be lots of upbeat responses to this one.

According to some United Nation study on health and quality of life, Canada is one of the best countries in the world to live in. Having travelled across this fair land and lived in six provinces, I can say this is so: I do indeed live in the best country in the world. 🙂

I lived with my aunt & uncle in British Columbia for a year when I was around four years old, so can’t really count that as practical experience, but as an adult I’ve lived in Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, Ontario, and Quebec. The only provinces we haven’t visited at least briefly are Newfoundland and Prince Edward Island. In spite of the occasional winter chill, I feel our quality of life has been “as good as it gets” all across our glorious nation.

According to Wiki: “Something to Sing About” is a patriotic song written by folk singer Oscar Brand that sings the praises of the many different regions of Canada.

“Wee timorous beastie” indeed!

It’s Wednesday again and Biff seems to be AWOL as yet. Nevertheless, I’ll do a Whatnot Wednesday post anyway — mainly because I don’t know what else to do with this verse-of-sorts. 🙂

The following poem is based on a real life experience…

The moon rains silver on my window
pierces the darkness of my eleventh hour,
draws thin slats on my carpet as
warm ambiance enfolds me like a cloak
woven of droopy eyelids, wool-gathering.

My book slips from my hand; sinking into
the fronds of fern casting their shadows
in dark splashes on the carpet
rubbing the rich brown of the old
grandfather clock poised to chime.

Shattering my doze like a snare drum,
the steady rustle I have come to dread.
That MOUSE again!
Intrepid raider of the cat-food dish.
Its toes scratch on the floor tile as it creeps
forward toward its goal – then I hear
that brazen crunching I detest.

It knows – I’m positive it bides its time until
some telepathy reveals to its pea-brain
when I am most vulnerable. Too burdened
and half asleep — can it hear me breathe — 
to give chase. Then out it creeps
to fill its emptiness with a cat food snack,
which it erroneously believes
has been provided for its benefit.

I will the clock to strike, to boom
a hickory, dickory, dock. A horrid shock
that causes said mouse to die of fright.
Yet Grandfather has nothing to say just yet,
so
I sit here trembling in the darkness
while my cat, a warm ball on my lap,
snores on, oblivious to mouse or man.
Waking, only to glance at me in peeved disdain,

when I screech, “You’re FIRED!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In my dreams…

Cat + Mouse.K Tyl

Back on Track

We have a beautiful spring-like afternoon here in Saskatchewan. Our temperatures have risen above 0 C and the cats are loitering outside in the sunshine. A sweet promise of days to come.

After December’s side-track, I’m again working at my ATCUSS* goal. This week I’ve been doing more cleaning/tossing out in my sewing room, as well as some minor mending. (*ATCUSS: A Total Clean-Up of my Sewing Space.)
We live in a mobile home and there’s just not much room to store things — never mind half-finished things. Ungrateful soul that I am, some days I look around and think:
Stuff, stuff, stuff!
Where to save it?
Where to store it?
No, stuff it. Stuff it!
Blessing from Heaven:
those green garbage bags!