North: November Yeats #1

Jane Dougherty is rebelling against the tyranny that is NaNoWriMo. I did it last year and “won” but I can’t fit it into my hectic lifestyle this year, and I am constantly trying to develop a sustainable writing pattern. NaNoWriMo was definitely not sustainable, not until I get a private income and lose several commitments. Jane, however, offers an optionaly Yeats’ prompt-spiration every day in November, so, you know.

“they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies,

With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold:” —W. B. Yeats

Of course we travel North,
always North, to the source of all things.

Of course we are slow. Of course.
We expected the cold, and the shortening days,
we have been warned about the wind
that calls in strange voices,
the snow that burns our faces,
the slow hunger that grinds in our bellies,

but still, we travel North,
against reason, against nature,
against all odds, because the snow-lust
is on us, the longing for the clarity
that descends between snow flurries,
that is revealed as mist rises.

Of course we travel North,
always North, to the heart of all things.

8 thoughts on “North: November Yeats #1

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