Lately I have been up late, late at night. And so have had some chance to look at tha sky. Orion has always been a good friend of mine, and the big dipper has been hanging around right over head recently.
Sadly, there are no delves in the suburbia where I am currently exiled. And city lights do their best to dim the stars. But even so, the instress and inscape of a night-time adventure are always there.
Although I might have to make do with the scaredy-cat squirrels instead of elves, and the motion-sensored sprinklers that try to discourage my late-night presence instead of magical realms of dells and dales, the love of the Night that Hopkins communicates still resonates with me.
This mainly an I-ought-to-be-reading-more-Hopkins post. And a lament that my Hopkins book has disappeared. And a celebration of a lovely poem.
And elves. Elves are always an excuse for anything.
And some encouragement to enjoy the beautiful nights.