Filed under: Art of the Day | Tags: Art of the Day, coyote, grief, Jean Ritchie, May Day
Cold and dark the winter
In March it snows again
Through the rains of April
Spring comes stealing in
Smiling o’er the meadow
The rising light of day
Beauty is reborn again
Every first of May.
For when I’m walking with my darling on a May Day day
Walking with my darling on a May Day day
Oh there’s nothing much a doin’
And little for to say
But oh my heart is happy on a May Day day
Folks are cold and distant
The world’s about to freeze
Never has the world known harder times than these
Suffering world forgive me
Grant me just a day
I cannot help but hope again
Every first of May.
For when I’m walking with my darling on a May Day day
Walking with my darling on a May Day day
Oh there’s nothing much a doin’
And little for to say
But oh my heart is happy on a May Day day
-The May Day Carol, Jean Ritchie
May 1 journal excerpts. Morning Coffee. Dad.
It caught me by surprise, sudden grief. Spooning the coffee beans into the grinder, enjoying the smell of them in the 6am darkness, I remembered the moment Dad realized that he was never going home again. I remembered his anguished cry, saying how much he loved his home, how he loved waking up and going down the hall in the dark to make his morning coffee. I wept at the kitchen counter. I’m crying now as I write outside in the evening light, everything so impossibly green, everything so impossibly beautiful.
The coyote was again in his spot on the hillside, laying in the grass, soaking up the evening sun. He lifted his head now and again to look around, smell the air, before laying back down. Not time to hunt yet, he hits the snooze button. It’s the same coyote I’ve been tracking since Easter. White muzzle, shaggy winter coat coming off in clumps. From my prayer spot on the Field Avenue side of St. Joseph’s I can look over the valley to the top of the hill beyond and see him with my binoculars. Without them, he just looks like a bit of brown in the grass. You wouldn’t notice him at all unless you were looking for him, even with binoculars. He’s tricky. Yesterday he was sitting up, he watched me watching him. He doesn’t need binoculars. I waved, but he didn’t wave back. I wonder if he comes to my yard at night, maybe takes a drink from the fish pond. Every evening I say a prayer for his safety, and I pray for the safety of my night prowling cats.
Dad’s been gone almost nine years. I’m waving from my prayer spot.
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The Fox at Dawn 
A wave of hello and many thanks to you for sharing your beautiful writing from my prayer spot🤗
Comment by Karen Graham May 2, 2019 @ 1:00 amKaren
Hello and good morning Karen! Thank you!
Comment by Loren Crawford May 2, 2019 @ 5:16 am