Everything has its moment
‘Everything has its moment’, said Mrs T.
We had just noticed the long orange stems of the willow by the duck pond, glowing through the morning mist. There are also still plenty of golden leaves on the trees, even some green on the birch, but it’s the gold of autumn that draws the eye to a seedling chestnut. Neither the god-daughters nor the squirrels spotted that nut last autumn – or maybe one of the squirrels buried it and forgot about it.
Everything has its moment. May we be ready for ours!
G. K. Chesterton
When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born.
With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
On all four-footed things.
The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.