April is National Poetry month and today, the last day of April, is Poetry on Your Blog Day in commemoration. So here is a poem by one of my favorite poets, Robert Frost.
Mowing
Robert Frost
There was never a sound beside the wood but one,
And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground.
What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself;
Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun,
Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound--
And that was why it whispered and did not speak.
It was no dream of the gift of idle hours,
Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf:
Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak
To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows,
Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers
(Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake.
The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows.
My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.
D and I went to see The Punisher on friday night. Thumbs up! Much better than the Dolph Lundgren version. Very entertaining, but typical Hollywood action movie fare - meet the people, get to know them, watch them die, (anti?)hero settles up - lots and lots of stuff blowing up. And that's ok. It's nice to sit back for the ride every now and then. 
I compare it with Kill Bill, which we saw the previous weekend, and find there is no comparison beyond the revenge theme. I enjoyed The Punisher - but I loved Kill Bill. Maybe it was the way the story was told; maybe the juxtapositioning of the bloodbath of the 88 and the duel with O-Ren; or the gut clenching scene of despair in the darkness. Throughout the film(s), QT crafts an experience. Fine dining, compared to the comfort food of the Punisher.
