The Eighth Sermon to the Dead

I am a fan of all of Holst's planet series, but nothing speaks to me like Jupiter, Bringer of Jollity. Anyone who's read my blog for any period of time knows I like Jupiter in all his aspects: King, Bringer of Jollity and plenty, Expander of boundaries and limits. The music is so upbeat! It fills one with joy, with granduer, with expansion, at least in the first movement. Then it quiets, but even it's quiet is joyous, and then it comes back in grand and sweeping, like a mountain vista in New Zealand. One can almost see a procession of gifts and brightly colored courtiers coming to pay homage to the king on the day of his coronation, or the day of his victory. A stately procession follows a flurry of preparation. Just when you think the grandeur of the second movement will come to it's end, the small trilling notes of fairies and servants and swirling dance comes back in, and then Jupiter is there, proclaiming his good will and beneficence to all. It makes me hap

There is nothing quite like wearing a good tailored suit. The cut simply falls correctly on the body, and the figure you cut, with a neatly tied tie and a pressed shirt, makes you think you can take on the world. A set of shiny dress shoes and some socks that speak to my personality, and I feel like a man about town, a captain of industry, a go-getter ready to take on the world. I can dream in a suit. That style of dress is out of place on the farm. On the farm, I like my Romeo boots with no laces that just slip on. A pair of old jeans, a flannel shirt if it's cold, a t-shirt if it's warm. A ball cap to keep the sun from my eyes. It's relaxed, it allows for work, and it makes me feel, well, like a man of the land. Someone who works hard to accomplish their goals. It grounds me. Even more removed is the vestments of the priest. Designed at the height of the Roman empire, the alb, stole, chausible, and cincture put me in a sacred role, a role that is outside of my ev

Great balls of fire, I am feeling ill. Grievous wails of despair come from my mouth Groaning, sweating, swearing, failing of will. Gone down a bad path, my health has gone south. Give me release, succor, a cooling cloth Growing is my unease that this illness Growls and rolls in my belly, ceaseless froth. Green mucus, bane color of un-wellness Government healthcare does not cover me Great witch doctors have no elixir cure Good faith healers' prayers do not set me free. Gross fluids flowing to make body pure. Greeting the morning of my discontent Going to find where my superb health went Writing Prompt: October 1 Fearful symmetry Pick a letter, any letter. Now, write a story, poem, or post in which every line starts with that letter.