A Tidings of Magpies

by Craig Arnold Who gives his heart away too easily must have a heart under his heart. —James Richardson The heart under your heart is not the one you share so readily so full of pleasantry & tenderness it is a single blackberry at the heart of a bramble or else some larger fruit heavy the size of a fist it is full of things you have never shared with me broken engagements bruises & baking dishes the scars on top of scars of sixteen thousand pinpricks the melody you want so much to carry & always fear black fear or so I imagine you have never shown me & how could I expect you to I also have a heart beneath my heart perhaps you have seen or guessed it is a beach at night where the waves lap & the wind hisses over a bank of thin translucent orange & yellow jingle shells on the far side of the harbor ...

As an older Boomer now with a bit more perspective under my belt and a better knowledge of history I can well imagine what our parents were thinking and feeling...I would never send my kids off to something like this. But our parents' generation--not as micro-managing as we are. The music festival at Woodstock would have been completely off the radar for those men and women who survived Normandy and Hiroshima, who fought back tyranny. For us, it made perfect sense. One big perfect, innocent valentine to life, and we'll not see it's like again.