‘He shall not hear the bittern cry
In the wild sky, where he is lain,
Nor voices of the sweetest birds
Above the wailing of the rain.
Nor shall he know when loud March blows
Thro’ slanting snows her fanfare shrill,
Blowing to flame the golden cup
Of many an upset daffodil.
But when the Dark Cow leaves the Moor,
And pastures poor with greedy weeds,
Perhaps he’ll hear her low at morn
Lifting her horn in pleasant meads.’
- Francis Ledwidge
preserve your memories – they’re all that’s left you…
this was found in a old family photo book – I restored and made digital. I have no idea who this person was but I love this photograph. She appears to be wearing a bird or thunder-bird phoenix type pin. She hails from a much more graceful time. I feel as if I know her although we never met. How strange. Perhaps memory encoded in the genes/DNA. Probaby Circa 1900’s.
My three month lab tests came back showing my PSA went from 357 to less than 1 on this treatment. That means a slowing down of the cancer cell growth. The Dr’s high end of three years survival could be possible. So I was happy about that result. Right now I’m doing good and getting as much done as possible before it is no longer possible. It’s an odd feeling to get used to in your life but I know there is always worse. I still feel very blessed…
Happiness is like a butterfly; the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder… ~Thoreau