Various Portents

By Alice Oswald

Various stars. Various kings.

Various sunsets, signs, cursory insights.

Many minute attentions, many knowledgeable watchers,

Much cold, much overbearing darkness.

Various long midwinter Glooms.

Various Solitary and Terrible Stars.

Many Frosty Nights, many previously Unseen Sky-flowers.

Many people setting out (some of them kings) all clutching at stars.

More than one North Star, more than one South Star.

Several billion elliptical galaxies, bubble nebulae, binary systems,

Various dust lanes, various routes through varying thicknesses of Dark,

Many tunnels into deep space, minds going back and forth.

Many visions, many digitally enhanced heavens,

All kinds of glistenings being gathered into telescopes:

Fireworks, gasworks, white-streaked works of Dusk,

Works of wonder and/or water, snowflakes, stars of frost . . .

Various dazed astronomers dilating their eyes,

Various astronauts setting out into laughterless earthlessness,

Various 5,000-year-old moon maps,

Various blindmen feeling across the heavens in braille.

Various gods making beautiful works in bronze,

Brooches, crowns, triangles, cups and chains,

And all sorts of drystone stars put together without mortar.

Many Wisemen remarking the irregular weather.

Many exile energies, many low-voiced followers,

Watches of wisp of various glowing spindles,

Soothsayers, hunters in the High Country of the Zodiac,

Seafarers tossing, tied to a star . . .

Various people coming home (some of them kings). Various headlights.

Two or three children standing or sitting on the low wall.

Various winds, the Sea Wind, the sound-laden Winds of Evening

Blowing the stars towards them, bringing snow.

in winter's deepest night

Triumphant in man’s deepest soul
Lives the Spirit of the Sun;
Quickened forces, set astir,
Awake the feelings to His presence
In the inner winter life.
Hope, impulse of the heart,
Beholds the Spirit victory of the Sun
In the blessed Light of Christmas,
The sign of highest life
In the winter’s deepest night.

Rudolf Steiner.

The Golden Tunnel

I am in the Golden Tunnel today. Great to be back. Everything is holy in the Golden Tunnel. Everything is happy. Love is all around. So is Light.

Various Portents

By Alice Oswald

Various stars. Various kings.

Various sunsets, signs, cursory insights.

Many minute attentions, many knowledgeable watchers,

Much cold, much overbearing darkness.

Various long midwinter Glooms.

Various Solitary and Terrible Stars.

Many Frosty Nights, many previously Unseen Sky-flowers.

Many people setting out (some of them kings) all clutching at stars.

More than one North Star, more than one South Star.

Several billion elliptical galaxies, bubble nebulae, binary systems,

Various dust lanes, various routes through varying thicknesses of Dark,

Many tunnels into deep space, minds going back and forth.

Many visions, many digitally enhanced heavens,

All kinds of glistenings being gathered into telescopes:

Fireworks, gasworks, white-streaked works of Dusk,

Works of wonder and/or water, snowflakes, stars of frost . . .

Various dazed astronomers dilating their eyes,

Various astronauts setting out into laughterless earthlessness,

Various 5,000-year-old moon maps,

Various blindmen feeling across the heavens in braille.

Various gods making beautiful works in bronze,

Brooches, crowns, triangles, cups and chains,

And all sorts of drystone stars put together without mortar.

Many Wisemen remarking the irregular weather.

Many exile energies, many low-voiced followers,

Watches of wisp of various glowing spindles,

Soothsayers, hunters in the High Country of the Zodiac,

Seafarers tossing, tied to a star . . .

Various people coming home (some of them kings). Various headlights.

Two or three children standing or sitting on the low wall.

Various winds, the Sea Wind, the sound-laden Winds of Evening

Blowing the stars towards them, bringing snow.

remembering my childhood thrill over Xmas trees

the berlin wall

The Berlin Wall fell, I think, in 1989. Katie was seven. I don't remember paying much attention to the event but Katie must have heard about it at school. While Christmas shopping, for Xmas 89 or 90, we came upon a display in Dayton's Department Store: they were selling chunks of the Berlin Wall for $9.95. It was like a pet rock only with a putative historical significance. I don't remember how but the opportunity to own a piece of history captured Katie's fancy. She wanted to buy one for her dad for Christmas.

I tried to discourage her. I swear. I knew, instantly, that he-who-shall-not-be-named would think I was making a commentary, comparing our divorce to the falling of the Berlin Wall.

And he did. He was furious about that piece of the wall.

Katie was oblivious to any possible undertones in that hunk of the wall. She thought she was giving her dad a piece of history. She thought it was thrilling