I just carried brown brink forward as a synonym for the future for kicks, I suppose. Not much of a kick I suppose but in these troubled times any kick at all is welcome.
I can't remember coming across poetry except for maybe some Shakespeare at dear old Gage Park High, but when I got to dear old U of I it was part of a necessary humanities requirement. English 121 through 123, English literature in three semesters and half of those courses was poetry. Not a fan was I, but it was something I had to take, like two years of foreign language, if I wanted to get a degree and become a biochemist like my hero, Isaac Asimov.
But I became a fan, not so much about the early stuff, but later on, maybe up to T S Eliot, he wrote a poem about a guy on ether on a table, how cool is that, was the word amid the ivied halls. Pretty cool thought young Uncle Ken. The good thing about college, which I thought was a bad thing at the time, was that I had to take a lot of courses on stuff I wasn't interested in, and it turns out that having your nose pushed into it, it smells pretty good.
I can't say that I ever gained anything from those long two awful years of German, but that poetry, especially from that one teacher who made us memorize 500 lines of poetry, it has stayed with me. I still have the books, almost sixty years old now and beaten and battered on my bookshelves.
I don't go for that modern stuff like the stuff that the New Yorker prints, after the second line. None of it makes sense to me, and it really doesn't seem like the poet is trying to be anything else but inscrutable.
Thinking of trying my hand at the art I once paid good money for a book and read it all the way through. See I thought poetry would be all about like arranging words like:
I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
But it turns out that it is more about expressing your deep inexpressible feelings than any fancy dancing with verbiage, or so the author of this particular book said, and I lost interest quick as a bunny.
But I am glad to see that Old Dog found the whole thing to be of sufficient interest that he went sailing on cyber waves and harpooned a bit of knowledge of Gerard Manly Hopkins. May I recommend two poems for him? The Windhover which contains the lines cited above and another called simply Margaret?
I am getting the Pfizer vaccine Thursday and the recommended time before I get the next one is three weeks. The Moderna has a slightly longer time between doses. Something may come up where I may have to wait a week or two more between doses, and this is not for the best, but it would probably work out okay. I am unaware of any other invariance of times in pharma world.
Weighing the risks of the vaccine against the risks of getting covid, I have no hesitation in getting it. One nice thing about being an old timer is that you don't have to worry so much about long term effects. Nobody has eradicated the virus, and doubtless the Chinese are being less than forthcoming,but if China was going through something like we are going through we would be able to tell.
There is a rhyme and a reason to the covid. All things have a rhyme and a reason, but we don't know all the rhymes and reasons, but given enough time and facts they are all ultimately discoverable. That is what science is all about. There is no magic.
There are a lot of factors. You can mandate masks and distancing but that doesn't mean everybody will obey. The denser the population the more extensive the spread. likewise the less healthy the population the more extensive, the average age of the population ditto. Common sense is good for things that are simple, but not so much for complicated things.
Let is snow.