Too frail to soar -- a feeble thing --
It fell to earth with fluttering wing;
But God, who watches over all
Beheld that little sparrow's fall.
'Twas not a bird with plumage gay,
Filling the air with its morning lay;
'Twas not an eagle bold and strong,
Borne on the tempest's wing along.
Only a brown and weesome thing,
With drooping head and listless wing;
It could not drift beyond His sight
Who marshals the splendid stars of night.
Then and Now by Francis Ellen Hopkins Warner. A random poem picked for this piece of news, and by the way the poem has several more verses.
Caught in developer's netting it died, the result of its death ended in the pulling off the net of this tree in Darlington. If you can get it The Times tells the story
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It is the smallness of the life of the sparrow that takes my notice, elsewhere in the rest of the world Mozambique and Zimbawbe people are clinging to trees as the flood water washes over their land. Climate change? Or the difference between two worlds?
So what else is happening in the news, thought to bring you a painting of 'hell' but they are too graphic and not empty for goodness sake, and so what about the friction between Bercow the Speaker of the House of Commons and Andrea Leadsom the leader. The thing is, has it been reported accurately, was he talking to Leadsom or to other members of parliament? Bercow is a hero of mine by the way.
On completely local news, whilst taking Lucy for a walk yesterday, she did the necessary function, I cleaned up and put the offending black bag next to the telegraph pole for picking up on the way back. But............. it had disappeared on the return journey, had someone picked it up. On going out a second time to check, I told the tale to J who was in the middle of tidying her very tidy garden, she pealed with laughter, it is very musical her laughter, and I was glad to bring her some cheer, as she is newly widowed. Being 'guilty' is one of my unfortunate traits, the black bag mystery rests on another story. Going to visit another neighbour I had deliberately put the bag outside her garden gate, then forgot to pick it up on the way out! A few days later talking to her and she was so indignant about the person who had left the offending bag outside her gate, I dissolved into giggles and confessed.... Sorry about the images this might bring to the mind, but the parochial nature of life in our village is sometimes all I have to offer ;)
Definition of parochial;
If you describe someone as parochial, you are critical of them because you think they are too concerned with their own affairs and should be thinking about more important things.
which could also be applied to blogging of course.
Oh Thelma this made me smile. I think village and/or small town life does tend to make one far too parochial. Don't know how to avoid it. But frankly, with the whole world situation/s as they are at present a laught is better than a cry.
ReplyDeletePS Sorry about the t on the end of laugh.
ReplyDeleteWell I suppose poo bags are a part of life, and such things need to be aired;)
ReplyDelete