The song in my head, a song that’s been out for a few years but is new to me, is Orville Peck’s “Dead of Night.”
The morning’s thread of poetry and literary quotes is littered with the ashes of September. These days, everything is fading light and longing. Ray Bradbury wrote, “It was September. In the last days when things were getting sad for no reason.”
From Linda Pastan:
From Ama Codjoe:
From Gregory Orr:
From Mark Strand
In addition to a daily dose of poetry, I spent my early morning hours reading the maxims of Francois Duc De La Rochefoucauld and writing my own ode to the season – grassy hills turned to rust and all that crap. Some of the maxims that stood out:
“A refusal of praise is a desire to be praised twice.”
“The truest way to be deceived is to think oneself more knowing than others.”
“We forgive so long as we love.”
“In the human heart one generation of passions follows another; from the ashes of one springs the spark of the next.”
“No one should be praised for his goodness if he has not strength enough to be wicked. All other goodness is but too often an idleness or powerlessness of will.”
“There is no disguise which can long hide love where it exists, nor feign it where it does not.”
“Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and fans the bonfire.”
And for no reason other than thinking of “new to me” songs that have been around a while, here’s Deer Tick. That’s all I got for today, a pocket full of longing and head full of song.