I wanted to inaugurate this blog with something beautiful, so here's an inaugural poem, by Seamus Heaney. Welcome to my blog.

Song

A rowan like a lipsticked girl.
Between the by-road and the main road
Alder trees at a wet and dripping distance
Stand off among the rushes.

These are the mud-flowers of dialect
And the immortelles of perfect pitch
And that moment when the bird sings very close
To the music of what happens.

Seamus Heaney