An August Midnight
I
A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
On this scene enterâwinged, horned, and spinedâ
A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;
While âmid my page there idly stands
A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands …II
Thus meet we five, in this still place,
At this point of time, at this point in space.
âMy guests besmear my new-penned line,
Or bang at the lamp and fall supine.
âGodâs humblest, they!â I muse. Yet why?
They know Earth-secrets that know not I.Thomas Hardy
The insect world is beginning to feel cooler nights as the house martins, in conference on the telephone wires, are considering departure dates for warmer climes. But domestic houses made by human hands are treacherously dangerous to flying birds, long-legs, moth or fly. And I feel an obligation, wherever possible, to upend my nightstand lampshade, to set free the little creatures who, as Hardy has it, are, for all their tininess, party to life experience not known to my eye.
wind in my wheels đ± 
Aren’t we lucky , you and I ,to know to free a humble fly and know the World needs all of us ?
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Good morning Eighty eight, and thank you. As a child I had a very strong sense of ‘angels unawares’ – brought to mind again by your note this morning. Oddly (perhaps), whilst thinking about that, I received an email from the priest / poet Malcolm Guite containing one of his songs, the title and opening lines of which are
Angels Unawares
Some people say that life is just a given thing
but you and I both know by whom its lent
and that its right here in the dirt
where weâve both been loved and hurt
that Love Himself has come to pitch His tent
You can see / hear the rest of the song at https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2016/08/27/angels-unawares-a-little-riff-on-hebrews-13/Angels Unawares
Have a lovely sunny day xx
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