Friday, February 21, 2014

My European readers. Also, The Astrologer's Child

One of the duties which come with a blog is checking the statistics – how many people are there in the world? And all of them not reading this? However, the three German readers seems to have mysteriously become one German, one Pole and two Ukranians. Plainly reading this blog may have unexpected side effects. Consult your physician.

He had lost count of his years but for all that
Was the Astrologer’s Child still, and the stars
Were mindful of him. They would call to him,
Even at midday, saying “Death sits beneath that leaf;
He watches from that window; he it is that brewed
The ale the widow offers you.”
As ever, the Astrologer’s Child would thank them
And look beneath the leaf at Death’s bright eye
Or climb to the window to see
What had so caught Death’s attention.
Whole days he would drink the widow’s ale
In cypress shadows behind her house

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