The Troll of Trondheim

The Troll is the big freeze that has hit the North of England - well, it's the name the tabloids have given it. A Guardian commentator pointed out caustically that isn't this just something we used to call Winter. And, yes, fair point.  We have no snow down here as yet, but apparently it is going to be very cold all week. We have the heating on, and our hot water bottle at night.  

Thursday morning was beautiful - cold and clear with the low wintry sun making everything shine.  Col was home on Thursday - no metal detecting! (Hold the Presses) - so we shopped.  And everything looked so beautiful that i wished I could write a poem about it. But my poetry writing days seem to be over.

I found this odd poem about a dipper by Kathleen Jamie - hence the photo which Captain M-B will have taken in Endcliffe Vale Park some years ago. I wonder how its life has gone since.  

The Dipper

Kathleen Jamie

It was winter, near freezing,
I'd walked through a forest of firs
when I saw issue out of the waterfall
a solitary bird.

 

It lit on a damp rock,
and, as water swept stupidly on,
wrung from its own throat
supple, undammable song.

It isn't mine to give.
I can't coax this bird to my hand
that knows the depth of the river
yet sings of it on land.

https://www.panmacmillan.com/blogs/literary/winter-poems-poetry-snow-frost-rossetti-poe

I do like Kathleen Jamie, but wonder why the water swept "stupidly" on?  A very odd adjective that jars, but not in fruitful way - not for me anyway. Water looks beautiful and purposeful, as it weaves its way to the sea, part of the amazing water cycle, the intelligent design, that keeps this planet so blue and so green.  

The water cycle is described poetically in the Book of Job:

"Yes, God is greater than we can know;

The number of his years is beyond comprehension.

He draws up the drops of water;

They condense into rain from his mist;

Then the clouds pour it down;

They shower down upon mankind."

 -  Job 36:26-28

A perfect system.  But I guess we won't see it working in its full perfection until the Kingdom of God is ruling over us.  (I seem to have borrowed a bit of format from the poem there, but never mind.)