The fruit tree heard that the Bhagavad Gita recommends surrendering the fruits of action to God and so he gently dropped his pears into Mother Earth’s lap.
Because he did so, pear seeds made the world much more pear-treed.
from Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 5
An Italian proverb states, “in bocca chiusa non cade pera,” – a pear will never fall into a closed mouth. But, to me, there is something about the shape, color, and texture of a pear that makes it almost too beautiful to eat!
Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat. What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain, In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp. Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears And water’d heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the forests of the night: What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
I love to listen to audiobooks while I needlepoint or paint with watercolors. This week’s book by John Lithgow, The Poet’s Corner: The One-and-Only Poetry Book for the Whole Family, gave me six and a half hours of pure bliss! The author included recitations, biographical information, and analyses of over forty poets’ content, style, and language. William Blake’s “The Tyger” poem was included in the list and inspired my blogpost.
P.S. I continued thinking about tigers and wild cats in general these last few days and when I came across Rudyard Kipling’s book, Just So Stories, I couldn’t resist rereading a story from my childhood, “How the Leopard Got His Spots.” You might enjoy it, too!
In Reykjavik’s streets, where legends roam, Anita, like a star, found her home. With fur of black and white, a beauty rare, A brown circle ’round her eye, beyond compare.
Energetic and alert, she caught my eye, A playful spirit, reaching for the sky. In her gaze, a spark, like twinkling stars, I wished to take her home, to be mine.
Though now a pet, her spirit’s still free, Anita, the Icelandic dog, with glee. With every wag of her tail, a tale unfurled, In my heart, she’ll forever be cherished, this world.
I admired this Icelandic Sheepdog in Reykjavik’s city center. Her name is Anita, after the Icelandic actress, Anita Briem. Oddly, she was only one of two pet dogs I saw in Iceland during my eight-day stay there. This breed dates back to the 800s when humans first came to Iceland. Anita seemed very eager and lively – I am sure she would have been a good sheep herder.
Satin & Sand 