'The true Soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because He loves what is behind him.' -G. K. Chesterton

02 December 2012

Sunday Kipling

It's overcast and just a touch dreary weather wise here at Fortress Six. Still it promises to be another good day. Angus had his Sunday Good Breakfast of eggs mixed with a little kibble. The boy loves the stuff. He's also working over a meat bone we got him yesterday. All is right in his world this morning.

Lu and I are mostly done Christmas shopping. We usually only buy for the grandkids and give Christmas treats to close family. Though this year I believe I'll be sending some lead and brass to DO. One shipping day and we'll be done. All the lights and decorations are out and we're looking pretty darn festive.

I'm writing again. For those unaware I love to write. One of my original motivations for blogging was to exercise my creative chops, something I've been remiss on for a while now. I may share but frankly it's mostly amateur and bad but it makes me happy and scratches an itch.

We may throw something on the grill for Sunday dinner tonight. Just because it's Winter is no reason to ignore the BBQ. I hope this day finds you all in the Christmas spirit. May you find Joy and happiness today and every day.

Something a little different today. I don't know why but this poem just tickles me.
Take care my friends.
Six

"Angutivaun Taina"

Song of the Returning Hunter (Esquimaux)
"Quiquern"--The Second Jungle Book
Our gloves are stiff with the frozen blood,
  Our furs with the drifted snow,
As we come in with the seal--the seal!
  In from the edge of the floe.

Au jana! Aua! Oha! Haq!
  And the yelping dog-teams go;
And the long whips crack, and the men come back,
  Back from the edge of the floe!

We tracked our seal to his secret place,
  We heard him scratch below,
We made our mark, and we watched beside,
  Out on the edge of the floe. 

We raised our lance when he rose to breathe,
  We drove it downward--so!
And we played him thus, and we killed him thus,
  Out on the edge of the floe.

Our gloves are glued with the frozen blood,
  Our eyes with the drifting snow;
But we come back to our wives again,
  Back from the edge of the floe!

Au jana! Aua! Oha! Haq!
  And the loaded dog-teams go;
And the wives can hear their men come back,
  Back from the edge of the floe!

2 comments:

Brigid said...

It was a quiet day here, a hot baked dessert served with ice cream mid afternoon while Dog Vader just sat there breathing loudly, in and out and in and out.

Have a wonderful rest of your weekend.

Six said...

You too Brigid. Give the boy a pat from all of us.