A Poem and a Promise

I'm going to toss up the occasional poem, because I appreciate poetry much more now than I did when it was my job to understand it. This one stuns me every time I read it, with its beautiful, masterful language. I'm not going to analyze it because I need to spend my time on other kinds of writing, but SparkNotes has, if you're interested.

"The Windhover"
--Gerard Manley Hopkins
To Christ our Lord

I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,--the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.
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In daily habit news, I signed up at the habitizer, setting writing every day as one of my goals. Today, I wrote for half an hour, which felt productive, because I got home late and had some packing to do. Ordinarily, I would have made an excuse. It does feel like the story is moving forward.

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And Heath Ledger, what a tragedy. Live, gifted young artists, I say, Live. Even though the world offers you everything and still can't make you happy.