Monday, November 05, 2007

Wanting Sumptuous Heaven

No one grumbles among the oyster clans,
And lobsters play their bone guitars all summer.
Only we, with our opposable thumbs, want
Heaven to be, and God to come, again.
There is no end to our grumbling; we want
Comfortable earth and sumptuous Heaven.
But the heron standing on one leg in the bog
Drinks his dark rum all day, and is content.

- Robert Bly
Photo credit: Evening sky above Heron's Foot, Eastern Shore of Virginia; Hungry Hyaena, 2006


Oly said...

That is one of the most beautiful blue hues I've ever seen.


marypbattle said...

I forgot how much I liked Robert Bly... This was one of my favorite excerpts in high school from one of his poems:

I am driving; it is dusk; Minnesota.
The stubble field catches the last growth of sun.
The soybeans are breathing on all sides.
Old men are sitting before their houses in carseats.
In the small towns I am happy.
The moon rising above the turkey shed.

Hungry Hyaena said...




Thanks to Robert (and you for sharing).

Anonymous said...

It's good to see home. Amazing the way the sky fades to midnight at the top of that photo... Like you're looking right out into empty space.
Makes me miss the bay and the smell of salt. Nostalgic much?
... heaven is the return of empty youth, empty sky, empty days, a warm breeze and the pop and splash of waves tickling the fiddler's doorstep.

Hungry Hyaena said...

I'm not sure which "Shore kid" you are, anonymous, but chances are I know you. That's how we roll. ;)

I'm going to shoot some videos while walking over "fiddler's doorstep[s]" this winter. Muddy, muddy, muddy...but I don't expect to see too many fiddlers out and about. ;)

Tree said...

wonderful poem, very spiritual.