Welcome Fore-Spring! (Bloggers (silent) poetry reading)

I am awfully happy to see people celebrating Groundhog Day (wild sex -- I mean, sex in the wild-- woodchucks make one social call of the year and they find it worth waking up for-- meets Puritans who don't trust Mary)->Candlemas (Catholics who like candles and a good festival and know it has something to do with Herself and growing light, also it's cold and making candles is a warm task)->Imbolc (halfway between the solstice and the equinox; the goddess is growing up and the sun has DEFINITELY made a turn; let's all eat something yellow and round, like pancakes or saffron flavored crossed-buns). A good astronomical holiday -- you don't have to believe in anything, except I suppose Flat-Earthers might have some problems. And I think Brigid would like poetry, which can't be much more difficult than forging iron.
I got it from Cassie and the Harlot.

So here's a poem. I have some theories what he might be talking about, but it's an excellent piece of advice for anyone:



Leap Before You Look


The sense of danger must not disappear:
The way is certainly both short and steep,
However gradual it looks from here;
Look if you like, but you will have to leap.


Tough-minded men get mushy in their sleep
And break the by-laws any fool can keep;
It is not the convention but the fear
That has a tendency to disappear.


The worried efforts of the busy heap,
The dirt, the imprecision, and the beer
Produce a few smart wisecracks every year;
Laugh if you can, but you will have to leap.


The clothes that are considered right to wear
Will not be either sensible or cheap,
So long as we consent to live like sheep
And never mention those who disappear.


Much can be said for social savior-faire,
But to rejoice when no one else is there
Is even harder than it is to weep;
No one is watching, but you have to leap.


A solitude ten thousand fathoms deep
Sustains the bed on which we lie, my dear:
Although I love you, you will have to leap;
Our dream of safety has to disappear.


-- W. H. Auden