Winter's Pie

Kansas Blackbird

Sing a Song of Sixpence
By Mother Goose

Sing a song of sixpence, 
A pocket full of rye, 
Four and twenty blackbirds 
Baked in a pie. 
When the pie was opened 
The birds began to sing— 
Wasn't that a dainty dish 
To set before the king? 
The king was in the counting-house 
Counting out his money, The queen was in the parlor 
Eating bread and honey, 
The maid was in the garden 
Hanging out the clothes. 
Along came a blackbird 
And snipped off her nose.

Bede's Advice

Female Sparrow, England, image diliff, cc

Bede’s Advice

 

"O’ King,

It seems to me

The life of man on earth

Is short and swift

Like the flight of the sparrow

In the darkest winter

That flies through the room wherein you sit at supper,

With your earlmen and thegns,

As the fire blazes in your midst,

As the meadhall is warmed,

As drinks are raised about

In salute of your wealth and health

As the wintry storms of snow rage about. 

The tiny sparrow, black and brown, grey and white

Unarmed except for wings

And a chest to boast its prowess

With feathers loosely fitting

As if it forgot to tuck in his shirt

As indescript as the twigs

With which it makes its house

As grimy as the dirt wherein it finds its food

The life of man, O’ King, is short

As this tiny sparrow, who

Flying in the door at once is quickly out the window

O’ King,

While within he’s safe

From the wintry tempest,

From his kith and kin who plot,

From his neighbors who covet his lot,

And would steal his kingdom

So, this life, O’ King, of ours,

Appears for a little while

And what may follow or went before

Is uncertain

[Note. This poem is based a passage from Bede's Ecclesiastical History of England, Chapter XIII, (Bede c. 673-735). The pagan King Edwin of Northumberland wishing to marry a Christian princess was told he must convert. He assembled his advisors and, after listening to the Christian Paulinus, one of Edwin's advisors recited the parable of the sparrow, concluding that if this new Christian teaching brings knowledge more certain, it seems right that the king should follow it.]

Non-sequitur

Childhood is a time when a goose could write rhymes and it would all make sense.

So where is the dog, where is the dish, Where is the star with which to make a wish?

I had a dream about non-sequiturs. I was a cow, you were the moon, my little dog laughed, and the dish ran away with the spoon.

And somehow it all made poetic dianoetic sense.

Consider present tense.

I have a plan, I am a cow, might I jump over the moon and would my little dog laugh to see such a sight, let the dish run away with the spoon.

Doesn’t follow does it?

The Violinist

Writing poetry, you start with and idea. There you are with your mum... and where does it take you?

violin from 1658 by Jakob Stainer

The Violinist 

There you are
With your mum inside her tum
She stops
In a second hand shop in Notting Hill
What will she buy while you wait?
Something vintage, something quaint,
Perhaps a brush, some tubes with which to paint
Something to inspire
A work of art as beautiful as Renoir
If she dares something rare and not a coffee cup

Something quirky as a turkey
Stuffed and mounted
Made up by a taxidermy
All the while you squirm all wormy
Worried
With thoughts
Of who knows what
Hoping that her choice is socially acceptable
Something conventional
Perhaps a book to while away the hours
Waiting patiently for you

You listen
Imprisoned as you are
For some apparition of the future
And her dreams of what is to come for you
Finally, her indecision is over
And you hear
In your still unformed ear
The gentle sound of the strings of a violin
And within the mother’s tum
Stirs the ambition to be a musician

Winter Squirrels

Winter Squirrels

Winter comes and autumn goes
And so any squirrel knows
To hunker down when it’s cold
In cozy dens with many friends
Curled up in balls of fir
Hardly wanting
From the frozen morn that’s dawning
From their sleeping bliss to stir
Purring softly, dreaming jolly thoughts of play
Warmed by nuts and leaves and odds and ends
They sleep, but

Should the day be bright and warm
The squirrels are up to play
An hour or two, no more
To find the scraps of bread
I left the night before
Then it’s back to bed

Free-riding - Nordhouse

Free-riding, Nordhouse 



 Sea gulls are free-riders.

sea gulls are free-riders

Reality check, in a group project, some always sit and watch while others do the work. That is called “free-riding.” And the problem is that given enough “free-riders” everyone quits working. No one and nothing works. So says Yale economist William D. Nordhaus, truth-sayer of climate change economics. But the truth of the matter is that it goes beyond climate change. A few of his examples are jumping the turnstiles on the subway, leaving dirty dishes in the sink for others to wash, not pitching in for pizza, but why not throw in picking up the trash in city parks, public welfare, and paying taxes. 

It seems that we can’t agree on free-riding and climate change, but that is part of the theory, we can’t make up our minds as a group. 

And what does it matter? As another economist, John Maynard Keynes, said, “In the long run we are all dead,” whether from waiting for humanity to accept that 7 billion human beings can change the climate for the good as well as the bad,  a failed nation-state, or simply old age.

Where do Bees go in Winter?

If you are a cranky old man like me, then you are asking: 

Where do bees go in the winter? 

Honey Bee on a Button Bush

In summer, the worker bees have gathered pollen into the pollen baskets on their back legs, carried it back to the hive where it is used for the developing brood. 

Now it is winter and the bees have a big job —take care of the queen bee. This means they must keep her safe and warm. So, worker bees surround the queen and form a cluster with their bodies, then flutter their wings and shiver.

Brrrr. 

Bees die of hypothermia if their body temperatures are lowered to approximately 7 degrees Centigrade, so the colder it gets the more they flap their wings.