{"product_id":"9781453594599","title":"Hear the Kingfisher","description":"Awkward Human Folly\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e                \u003cbr\u003eAs sea mist fogs my window, I no longer\u003cbr\u003e                              \u003cbr\u003esee the pair of swans lift up on webbed feet,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eshake out wings and beat the blues\u003cbr\u003e   \u003cbr\u003efor sun's return. I miss their long landings\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eon orange pontoons, the swish of water\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eparting, wake soft under their white chest\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eas they settle into their favorite chair.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eAll this white surprises me,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e   \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eas did the wind dying yesterday,\u003cbr\u003e   \u003cbr\u003ewhen I watched a lone man with his ice boat\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eslip and stumble across the bay, dragging\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003edead sails behind him on his long ice walk,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003ewith no neck in a graceful S-curve, wings\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003ebroken and his voice hissing low grunts.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eOld Furrows\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eLast night, we dined on plump\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003ewhite asparagus served on cheerful\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003echina plates with a crevice for mayonnaise.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e(The chateau has been restored\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eto a desideratum of elegance and culture\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eby Madame \u0026amp; Monsieur Tormos.)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e                                      \u003cbr\u003eAs we tucked in, Madame Tormos said, \"The garden\u003cbr\u003e   \u003cbr\u003ewas sown on top of ancient monks' graves.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eShe tends the vegetables today with a care\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003ewhich harkens to old days of Saint George,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003ebefore the sound of hob-nail boots marching\u003cbr\u003e   \u003cbr\u003einto her hall, or smell of burning panel walls.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e                                      \u003cbr\u003eVillagers blasted out from blood and barbed wire,\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003echanging bread-line crumbs into wheat fields,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eploughing pain into the earth\u003cbr\u003e   \u003cbr\u003eand seeding old furrows with poppies.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e   \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eNow the abbey's red brick wall, topped with red tiles,\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eseems a perfect buttress against any kind\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eof  perpetration. The wall, centuries older\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003ethan any of us, withstood five hundred years\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eof occupations. This year a Nazi helmet\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003ewas dug up in the garden;\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eit hangs on a hook in the stables.\u003cbr\u003e   \u003cbr\u003eA yellowhammer perched on it and sang-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e                                    \u003cbr\u003ebehind him the church tower pitted\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003ewith bullet holes. How perfect,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003ethis morning the passionflower, desideratum,\u003cbr\u003e   \u003cbr\u003eon the wall beside the window.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e                                                                         After All\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eWill death be like crinoline oak leaves\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003ewaltzing in a summer breeze, rumpled and airy?\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eWill spirits float together in clumps or alone?\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eWhen they meet, will they say to each other\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e\"Do you remember on earth when we . . . \"    \u003cbr\u003eWill we see God?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e   \u003cbr\u003eYou stamp your feet into the earth\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eas you walk, as if to make sure the ground\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eremains solid. I doubt if we will need toes\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eor shoes where we are going.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eI feel sure we will have a great adventure.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eAfter all, there'll be no need to go anywhere,\u003cbr\u003e   \u003cbr\u003ewe will have arrived and I'm thinking\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eI may learn to sing.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e","brand":"Xlibris Corporation","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47155171524848,"sku":"9781453594599","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/9781453594599_p0.jpg?v=1763850910","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/9781453594599","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}