Fulfilling Brian C's Request

Here's a great little rhyme by W. H. Davies; maybe a little sentimental, but I've kept it in my head to remind me that I tend to be on the wrong side of the peaceful contentment spectrum:

Here's an example from
A Butterfly;
That on a rough, hard rock
Happy can lie;
Friendless and all alone
On this unsweetened stone.

Now let my bed be hard,
No care take I;
I'll make my joy like this
Small Butterfly,
Whose happy heart has power
To make a stone a flower.

***

To balance the emotional content of this day's blog, I want to add another little rhyme that Brian C asked me to send him. This one's better, more a poem than a rhyme. It's still about wildlife, though, is a little more profound and, I think, true to life. It's by favorite obscure poet: Humbert Wolfe

Like a small gray coffee-pot,
sits the squirrel. He is not
all he should be, kills by dozens
trees, and eats his red-brown cousins.

The keeper, on the other hand,
who shot him, is a Christian, and
loves his enemies,which shows
the squirrel was not one of those.

***

By the way, Brian, and anyone else who might be interested:
Remember that manuscript I told you I had finished, a book entitledLittle Crucifixions? Well, it is being published within the next few weeks. I'll keep you posted so you can *buy* several as Christmas gifts.