Wednesday, February 23, 2011
winter passes over the hills
and a tree ages hour by hour
with rings of compassion in an endless din) like the black--
with white dew
night transforms hundreds of stars
are winnowed with the gods' fires
The line of plains and mountains
whirls like a fog
whose stones envelope the moon in veins and the Siren is gold
on the bough..
but the evolution of change is less visible than smoke
hoovering like a rainbow of achievement over a steel-grey crown...
from Description by Russian poet Arkadii Dragomoschenko
...there is only the unattended
Moment, the moment in and out of time,
The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight,
The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightening
Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply
That it is not heard at all, but you are the music
While the music lasts.
— from T. S Eliot, “The Dry Salvages”
.What a gift to remember to be tender with our senses.
Sarah Vaughn Doodlin
my mother called and told me I was "grounded" yesterday. Because I hadn't talked to her all month. It was kind of sweet to imagine myself as a teenager, not allowed to go "out and play."
much peace, and love and light to you all, and to the world in such political growing pains.
added *Taming Foxes for domestication National Geographic Fascinating