..
..

Life flakes off with speech. The husk goes off, playing the fool

along a flowering path of sap,

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
into plasma
            and wasps
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