Wednesday, March 20, 2013

And Also Much Cattle

Should not I have pity on Nineveh, that great city, wherein are more than sixscore thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left hand, and also much cattle?

And here, now, with the maple flower blushing more and more furiously, going from tawny to red?

I am thinking about my long betrayal of beauty, and wondering if I can ever reach forgiveness. I have spent a lifetime in Tarshish; I have friends and family there; the call has faded to the faint twittering of birds; and as long as I carefully avoid crossing water, I should make it to the end of my days.

Only. There is the reddening of the maple flower in the morning, and gray eyes catching the last light of evening. There's the wathuma gebind of the Spruce boughs in the wind, and the rain scrabbling against the window pane. I am not yet so old and dignified that God would jib at dragging me out of bed in my pajamas and sending me to sea.


rbarenblat said...

I love this post.

Zhoen said...

It's all about love. Seeing when a call for why? is a cry for help and love. When we put down the words and reach out to each other with kindness.

mm said...


Lucy said...

Mmm, wonderful.

But send us a postcard or two from the belly of the whale!

Peter said...

This is stunning. The best thing in a small prose package that I think I've read in years.

". . . the call has faded to the faint twittering of birds." Whoo-whee!

You've changed how I see Jonah. (And I've always thought I had much to tell the world about the book, if only God would have let me cross some water.)

And you titled it with one of my favorite four-word phrases in literature. (People love to collect and discuss great opening lines. How about great closing lines? I mean, "and also much cattle" sends me out with some new direction!)

In the words of Dale, "Now I remember why I read blogs!"

Dale said...

Thanks so much!

Marly Youmans said...

Lovely, Dale!