The words have been spoken (continued)... The reading of Winter at the Moab Slough would last longer than The Banquet Hall, so the CD would continue with Snow, a musical setting of the Canadian poet, Archibald Lampmans wintertime poem. And usually (if I didnt rush the pacing) the reading would finish at the very end of the song, at these words: The evening deepens and the grey Folds closer earth and sky The world seems shrouded, far away. Its noises sleep, and I secret as Yon buried streams plod dumbly on and dream. And dream... A fitting end to our Winter Solstice reading and the turning of the seasons and the hope of darkness giving way to light, indeed! This year, the Winter Solstice in Asia falls on Monday, 22 December (at just a few minutes passed 7 am here in Malaya--just barely after sunrise), so I did the reading this morning, around the time of the actual Solstice, right as the sun prepared to climb over the trees. Also, instead of staying indoors, I walked down to what the developer has named the Float: a dock-like structure with seating that sits out in the small reservoir created when the large waterfall further downstream was created. Given the languid, placid flow of the water, the reservoirs far side has become a wetland home for birds and other animals. (Its at the Float that I conclude my not-frequent-enough runs.) So at 6.45 am, I walked to the Float, book and portable speakers in hand. As I read about a wetland frozen under ice, I listened to millions of insects finishing up their nighttime chorus (as well as the roar from the expressway a few kilometres away as seemingly half of Johor drives in to Singapore to work). As I read about a pair of blue herons, flying through the air downstream, I watched a flock of birds take to wing and fly across the waters, chatting away as they flew. And as I finished, listening to the final words of Snow, I shivered slightly in the chill of the 25 C/77 F morning air. Im thousands of kilometres away from snow and winter. But even in the Land of Eternal Summer, at sunrise following the (technically) longest night of the year for the Northern Hemisphere (a hemisphere of which we in Malaya are 1-degree-15 a part)--the Winter Solstice turns in us, turns in me.: I stand on the edge of these wetlands, a place of renewal, an oasis in the desert, as an act of faith, believing the sun has completed the souther end of its journey and is now contemplating its return toward light. Happy Solstice! ___________ Snow White are the far-off plains, and white The fading forests grow; The wind dies out along the height, And denser still the snow, A gathering weight on roof and tree, Falls down scarce audibly. The road before me smooths and fills Apace, and all about The fences dwindle, and the hills Are blotted slowly out; The naked trees loom spectrally Into the dim white sky. The meadows and far-sheeted streams Lie still without a sound; Like some soft minister of dreams The snow-fall hoods me round; In wood and water, earth and air, A silence everywhere. Save when at lonely intervals Some farmers sleigh, urged on, With rustling runners and sharp bells, Swings by me and is gone; Or from the empty waste I hear A sound remote and clear; The barking of a dog, or call To cattle, sharply pealed, Borne echoing from some wayside stall Or barnyard far afield; Then all is silent and the snow falls Settling soft and slow The evening deepens and the grey Folds closer earth and sky The world seems shrouded, far away. Its noises sleep, and I secret as Yon buried streams plod dumbly on and dream. youtube/watch?v=sFVn2nCFX7w
Posted on: Mon, 22 Dec 2014 00:35:58 +0000