The Cat and the Moon - Yeats


The cat went here and there
and the moon spun round like a top
and the nearest kin of the moon,
the creeping cat, looked up.



Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.





Minnaloushe runs in the grass
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two kindred meet,
What better than call a dance?




Maybe the moon may learn,
Tired of that courtly fashion,
A new dance turn.



Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
From moonlit place to place,
The sacred moon overhead
Has taken a new phase.



Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?



Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon,
His changing eyes.



(click on most images for links)

Comments

Mountain Mama Jody said…
Heather,
I am also a huge lover of the Moon. I recently found this amazing book called Lunaception by Louise Lacey. It's about getting women's natural cycles to sync up with the Moon's cycles, and possibly aiding in conception. It's a pretty awesome concept! The author offers her book on her website for a small amount of money and emails a PDF version of the book to you. You might really like it!
Thanks for your great posts and have a happy Thanksgiving!
November 21, 2010 at 12:58 PM
Milla said…
Heather,
Thank you for this beautiful post. What a treat.
I was forced to stay home from a shindig last night due to a hideous cold, but nevermind, I wandered down to the beach in moonlight, lit by the sand and the new snow, cat under coat and a mug of something warm in my hand.
November 21, 2010 at 1:03 PM
flaming hag folkwear said…
That b/w photo of the black kitten is achingly precious! And the moon/cat in the tree image is lovely, too. It just occurred to me that this will be my first holiday season without my little gray familiar who passed away in June :(
Cats and the moon, you can't beat them.
November 21, 2010 at 9:18 PM
Tina Dawn said…
Ah, loved this, going back to reread it now several more times. Love T
November 22, 2010 at 8:20 AM
Missa said…
Magic! Magic! Magic!
November 23, 2010 at 10:14 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tuesdays in my Town - Buck's Bar on the Cosumnes River

Image
Okay, not to turn this into "my favorite river spots" or anything...but it just hit 100 degrees here and i had the pleasure on saturday of going with some of my favorite people to one of our...yes indeed i can't resist.... favorite river spots .  since i talk about the river a lot, all summer long, i figured i'd go ahead and show you all this particular spot for this week's "Tuesdays in my Town." so, my town placerville (aka p-ville, peevs, and infamously "old hangtown") is actually located between two beautiful rivers coming out of the sierra nevada mountains: the american river to our north and the cosumnes river to our south. my friends and i have spots we prefer on both rivers, depending on the day, the kind of hike you want to do, and the month of the year. on saturday we drove out toward somerset down buck's bar road to the bridge and hiked out to the perfect june swimming hole in the cosumnes river, which, by the way, i r
Read more

"I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin..."

Image
I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belong to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death. It struck me, when I read Song of Myself several years ago, that thirty-seven years old , that magical Whitmanesque age, was still in the future for me. How exciting that felt! To know that this wonderful age that was such a pure and boisterous beginning for the bard, was something I could look forward to. To know that I could set forth on new adventures, and sing the praises of the earth, and be wild and merry and voluptuous and bold. Now and forever. and especially at 37. And so suddenly I am here! That lu
Read more

handmade homes take to the open road

Image
i want this to be us so bad...rollin away in a fairytale bus made of wood and wheels, porch and books. this is from another book in the series of rad 70s handmade house books that i've written about before and missa wrote about here  ( raddest houseboats ever, ever, ever ) this one is all about handmade hippie houses on the road. we have it at the bookery in the locked case; it's a collectible and thus way out of my price range. but i still get to look at its gloriousness. these photos of the pages look much better than mine, found in this wonderful little delight here , check these caravans out: standing in the mist with its little terra cotta pots and windowpanes, killing this fairytale heart a mine. i can picture joey and emily in this one, our neighbors. and this one can house addie and art, and we'll drive cross the prairies together. this covered-wagon one seems the most fun of all. roll back the canvas and sleep
Read more