The Branch Will Not Break

Old Christmas card photos show us how we’ve aged, reminding us that, though time may curve in Einstein’s physics, in our small life it is a straight line to white hair and bifocals.

Bill Holm

Try to Waken and Greet the World Once Again

by James Wright (1927 – 1980)

In a pine tree,
A few yards away from my window sill,
A brilliant blue jay is springing up and down, up and down,
On a branch.
I laugh, as I see him abandon himself
To entire delight, for he knows as well as I do
That the branch will not break.

The House of Hospitalities

by Thomas Hardy (1840 – 1928)

Here we broached the Christmas barrel,
     Pushed up the charred log-ends;
Here we sang the Christmas carol,
            And called in friends.

Time has tired me since we met here
      When the folk now dead were young.
Since the viands were outset here
            And quaint songs sung.

And the worm has bored the viol
     That used to lead the tune,
Rust eaten out the dial
            That struck night’s noon.

Now no Christmas brings in neighbours,
     And the New Year comes unlit;
Where we sang the mole now labours,
            And spiders knit.

Yet at midnight if here walking,
     When the moon sheets wall and tree,
I see forms of old time talking,
            Who smile on me.