The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in Him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatfully rejoices; and with my work I will praise him.Psalm 28 : 7 ( Sandy’s word change work instead of song.)
The Cabbage WhiteRobert Grave.
The butterfly,a cabbage -white,
(His honest idiocy of flight)
Will never now, it is too late,
Master the art of flying straight,
Yet has- who knows so well as I?-
A just sense of how not to fly:
He lurches here and here by guess
And God and hope and hopelessness,
Even the acrobatic swift
Has not his flying - crooked gift.
There are two links below. In the first Robert Grave is being interviewed by a lady when he is in his 70’s.
Then in this second interview he is in his 80’s and he is being interviewed by a man. I was fascinated by the slow but purposeful avoidance of answering questions that Robert Grave was able to sustain during this interview. It is as if the process of thinking has become difficult. It takes patience to follow but look at their clothes their body movements. The change the years have made to him. He doesn’t clearly answer but we think we know his answers as we have listened to him speak when he was in his 70’s.
This post has taken a left/ right turn, which ever, and I have again let it take me to an interesting place I didn’t set out to find. So, Robert Grove some of us women have magic, how lovely and strange that thought is. Possibly, as good as this one by another Robert poet, Robert Frost :
” Butterflies … flowers that fly and all but sing.”