The Windover 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: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.
Today was a magical day to live a poem, so I had to find a magical poem to live. I didn’t set out with any poem in mind, however, as the day progressed a poem emerged. This is how it happened.
I left about 10:30am to walk to a protest against our provincial premiere. If I’m going to complain about him, I have to show up or shut up! It was a short 6.5kms walk some of it through the cemetery, where I recited the rosary to help with Pope Leo’s day of prayer for world peace. I’m not particularly religious, but I love this new pope and I’m willing to help in anyway I can to stop these wars!!
I was early for the protest so I stopped at Balzac for a coffee and a vegan muffin – delicious. I had always planned to stop at a fabric store near the cafe´to buy a pattern for a vest to sew and embellish once I have finished at least one of my two unfinished projects. I popped into Fabricland, spent sometime looking through what was left of their patterns, bought nothing and left. Not really that poetic.
This stop left me a little short for time to arrive at the protest on time, however, I felt that I could at least add my body to the throng, whenever I arrived. Well by 1:00pm the protest was over; I managed to see one person with a sign and failed to see any significant horde chanting “Go Home DoFo.” Even if I had arrived on time, my body would not have tipped the balance in any significant way to stop another takeover of our public places…. alas!
I had to be back for a scheduled phone call by 3:00pm, so I disappeared down some stairs in the park which lead to the “Museum” subway stop. This was a first for me and I loved the pillars in the station built to resemble museum artifacts – totem pole bears, sarcophagi, Doric columns etc. There is magic underground.
I transferred at the next stop to the Bloor-Danforth line and two stops later, exited to the Yonge line. Riding the rails is a magic unto itself. At Eglinton I left to walk to the library, return Walking the Woods and the Water and picked up Landmarks, a book about our disappearing language. On the walk back home, I met neighbours and had a wonderful chat – the magic of a community.
So why this poem? Well, in the book Landmarks there is a passage about the Curlew, a bird in decline. Its other names are Kestral and Windover. I immediately thought of The Windover to Christ Our Lord. It’s a favourite poem by a favourite poet, Gerard Manly Hopkins who was a Jesuit. Today was a day of prayer, of protest, and of persistence. It was also a day of words, of loss and of discovery. I think that this poem captures the magic of the day!