A Notional Song

These are gnomes, truly,
As I thought they would be
Where my dreams outwait me
Where the scattered people go

There are gnomes, Shelly,
As the census tells me
This is where I won't take a loan
For that's how you escape a gnome

Strong Drink A Mocha?

Drizzle the caramel over the foam
Find for the syrup of chocolate a home
Brew up the coffee, sing up the steam
Carry it home to the brain like a dream

(cf. Proverbs 20:1)

June

How many Junes have I known?
More than blackbirds in a pie,
More than bones within my feet.
I am half as old as I am,
And twice as old as I was.
So this is a song for June.

How many moons have I seen?
More than the old Praetorians,
More than watchmen watch the night.
I am twice as wise as I was,
And half as wise as I am.
So I sing about the moon.

In Taberna

I have been a fan of Carl Orff since I first heard his grand cycle of mediaeval Latin drinking songs set to music, Carmina Burana. This dramatic musical production is named after an eponymous collection of mediaeval drinking songs (about 200 of them!) which was put together over the years by the amoral scholars of central and western Europe as they wandered from town to town. Some are still familiar tunes. Who can forget the opening and closing song in Orff's version, O Fortuna, for example?

But why did this come to mind on a balmy Saturday night? Well, because Saturday to me is both the Old Testament Sabbath as well as a night for gastronomy, astronomy and oenology. And when a night is all these things and more, one suddenly notices unusual connections. As they say, "In vino, veritas." In wine, (there is) truth. Yes, indeed. I was looking up from a 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon when it hit me. (No, not the wine, the thought.)

The word 'tabernacle' and the word 'tavern' are directly related. In fact, 'tabernacle' means 'a small tavern' in Latin. I knew these things all along, but the two words had never juxtaposed themselves in my mind for all the years of my life. How... odd. As is the case with such incidents, you "see with blinding sight" as old Dylan used to say, and you ask yourself (should you be of religious persuasion) why on earth God is showing you such a thing.

So that "blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay" [note: I'm sure he meant 'extravagantly cheerful' here], I think. Sometimes, wrapped in the concerns of the world, the flesh and the Devil, we fail to remember that the general will of God is seldom shown explicitly (i.e. in the form, "this is the will of God...") in the Good Book. And one very explicit statement of that will is found here – it tells us to "be joyful always".

And perhaps, that is why I sit here, looking into a small glass of pale yellow fluid, and think, "This too is the fruit of the vine."