Ah, Bitter Chill it Was!

 

St. Agnes' Eve - Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold:
Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told
His rosary, and while his frosted breath,
Like pious incense from a censer old,
Seemed taking flight for heaven, without a death,
Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.

- from "The Eve of St. Agnes", John Keats

Reading these lines makes you feel cold, doesn't it? 

I love the image of the owl, for all his feathers, still a-cold. I can see him shivering as he sits perched on the tree limb dozens of feet above the ground, looking out across the landscape, perhaps catching a glimpse of the hare who is trembling through the frozen grass, trying to get to his warm burrow. The frosty, crunchy grass seems frozen in time as the evening advances.

Ah, John Keats, who so beautifully mingles the spiritual and the temporal in his poetry, I read again this poem that invites me to imagine a medieval landscape of trials and bitter chill, and an introduction of the mythical.  This is where my heart and soul can expand beyond the norm of the everyday, and into the relish of the imaginative story that is bigger and older than me. It has much to tell, even in a microcosmic manner. Two young souls from challenging opposing families risk their lives to run away on the bitter cold, mystical night of St. Agnes' Eve, where the legend presents an opportunity.

I have been soaking up these cold, wintry, grey days. Even though I might shiver and for all my blankets and sweaters feel a-cold, I live for these days as they are so rare in Florida, and feel like a special treat to me. I realize that my love of winter and the grey clouded days we have had recently go against the general consensus of enjoyment out there, so if you think I am mad, I know. Most people do. I accept that and challenge you to try to see it from another angle, just as I need to see the summer sun and heat from another angle in those long, arduous months. 

A few days ago there was frost on my car and on the grass lawns of all my neighbors. I could not help but smile. The snowy dew was magical to me. I wanted to take a walk and linger with the scenes before it melted away a short time later. When I see things like that, especially in nature, where the changeable stance is that of the unpredictable, I am swept into the imaginative world mingled with my own. The two worlds collide, which makes the magic that I see.