Sometimes a Little Poetry is Necessary.

It is one of those mornings when stepping outside into the January cold is more refreshing than freezing.  A beautiful morning, with the moon parked low in the western sky and the sun rising in the east painting shadows on the snow-topped mountains.  I heard birds calling, and off in the distance a lone cow mooed.

This morning seems the right time for a poem by the great Irish poet, W.B. Yeats.

Lake Isle of Innisfree 

 I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,

And live alone in the bee loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart's core.

                     - W.B. Yeats