Three things from DAH. Free every Friday!
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DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. Better to have an edge than to be edgy. Maybe.

First up this week, Rim … 
Encountering the word "rim" I wish I could say the Grand Canyon came immediately to mind. Instead, it's an old coffee commercial my memory summons. "Fill it to the rim!" I thought this coffee brand was dead and buried, like Jacob Marley. But, no, it's back! But as a "low acid" rather than "decaffeinated" brew, and with a different introductory slogan: "Brew Like an Artisan." Wow. Boring. But it fits better for the corporation that now owns the brand name. They mostly produce coffee-making equipment. Consumer reviews of the new Brim coffee are quite positive. I suppose if you're showcasing your coffee-making chops you need to count on a good tasting cup. But the rhyming slogan of the 1960s, '70s, and '80s will be what's stuck in my brain.

Second up this week, Rime …  
It's cold here, where I live. Morning rime on the roofs, disappearing when the sun strikes. I decided yesterday that wearing shorts was increasingly untenable as the weather changed. So, now I look like a grown man, with long trousers. That's a clear distinction for me. I recall wearing children's formal garb that looked like a suit … coat and tie … but with matching material short trousers. I always seemed in shorts when very young. When did I change to long trousers? According to British tradition, "quality" boys aged 7-8 could transition from wearing short to long trousers. Wearing long trousers earlier was considered quite middle class. Trends have largely changed traditions, I think. I don't feel particularly "quality" in my baggy cargo trousers. But they're comfortable and practical. Especially as the season of rime is upon us.

Third up this week, Rhyme …  
Yes, most of us think poetry. According to Merriam-Webster: rhyme is "correspondence in terminal sounds of units of composition or utterance." I'd say we all think that, but we likely wouldn't express it in that high-fallutin' way. But poetry, these days, doesn't always rhyme. And I'm happy that it doesn't, because sometimes rhyme and rhythm combine to make works seem contrived. Leaning heavily on Merriam-Webster for this subject, I like this definition: "writing that formulates a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience in language chosen and arranged to create a specific emotional response through meaning, sound, and rhythm." Not quite as high-fallutin' (a word/phrase that doesn't appear in Merriam-Webster, even if the apostrophe is replaced with the letter g). Mostly I like that rhyme is but a part of poetry, no longer a primary (with rhythm) definer of the craft. Too much rhyme (and rhythm) these days often drifts into doggerel, which makes me and the dog growl. 

A fun little book I'm reading … 
The Pocket Guide to Pigeon Watching, written and illustrated by Rosemary Mosco
I'm learning a lot and being entertained at the same time. What could be better?
"Part field guide, part history, part ornithology primer, and altogether fun. Pigeons were once loved and prized -- as messengers, as producers of fertilizer, as meat on the plate. With her trademark wit and artistic charms, Mosco gives us a hundred reasons to rekindle the love affair." (Mary Roach)

And a bit more:

Introduction to Poetry
by Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.


And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver’s poem Sometimes …  

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.