This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed... Here is no treasure hid,
No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain
For greed like yours, no writhings of distress,
But only what you see... Look yet again—
An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless.
Yet this alone out of my life I kept
Unto myself, lest any know me quite;
And you did so profane me when you crept
Unto the threshold of this room to-night
That I must never more behold your face.
This now is yours. I seek another place.
by Edna St Vincent Millay
As soon as I cut and pasted this poem, I questioned it. I'm leaving it up as my Tuesday Poem choice, but the issue of privacy is far more fraught for women! When you've contemplated what you'd do for a room of your own, check out the Tuesday Poem on the hub. Today's poem, 'News from the Island' by Tracey Sullivan is a tribute to the art of weaving (appropriate after visiting the Bendigo Sheep and Wool Show!) - or any art, really. I love the fact that the weaver offers news of the coveted weaving - as though it is (as it is, I guess) a mutual friend. Thanks to Claire Benyon, this week's editor, for showcasing the work of Tracey Sullivan.
I'm currently reading Candia McWilliam's memoir, What to Look for in Winter. Wonderful and sad. I keep meaning to blog quotations from what I'm reading and I so rarely manage that. We'll see what we can do later this week.
Today I ate yoghurt soup - so delicious, even in the middle of winter. I think it will appear as a staple on my summer menu!