The Call

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“As I exclaimed ‘Jane! Jane! Jane!’ a voice- I cannot tell whence the voice came, but I know whose voice it was- replied, ‘I am coming: wait for me;’ and a moment after, went whispering on the wind the words- ‘Where are you?’ “I’ll tell you, if I can, the idea, the picture these words opened to my mind: yet it is difficult to express what I want to express. Ferndean is buried, as you see, in a heavy wood, where sound falls dull, and dies unreverberating. ‘Where are you?’ seemed spoken amongst mountains; for I heard a hill-sent echo repeat the words. Cooler and fresher at the moment the gale seemed to visit my brow: I could have deemed that in some wild, lone scene, I and Jane were meeting. In spirit, I believe we must have met. You no doubt were, at that hour, in unconscious sleep, Jane: perhaps your soul wandered from its cell to comfort mine; for those were your accents- as certain as I live- they were yours!” Reader, it was on Monday night- near midnight- that I too had received the mysterious summons: those were the very words by which I replied to it.
(Mr. Rochester and Jane Eyre)”
Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre    

Super Moon

The Call

Over the distance, pushed into my ear by the keening wind it came. The call.

No matter the windows latched and curtained. No matter the years between.

Undeniable and elemental, like the lightning flash. The call.

The warmth of the hearth forgotten, out into the storm. The scent of the loam. Wet on my feet.

Arms extended, the moon-shot clouds light the cedar-scented hills as I run.

Soul-shaking thunder sings to my bones. The call.

How shall I answer? The question unneeded. The breath of the earth fills my chest.

I curl contented in the arms of my love. Soon shall I answer. The call.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of the strange things about living…

Beautiful words I read yesterday…..

Sunrise Deer

According to Frances Hodgson Burnett (1911), author of The Secret Garden,  ” One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one’s head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one’s heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun….One knows it then for a moment or so.

And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure: and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in someone’s eyes.”

sunset picture