Saturday, June 25, 2011
And the air is throbbing with it
Things are looking up. Hastings Caves State Reserve, Huon Valley. June 2011.
Some people like trees more than they like people.
Some people like trees more than they like ice cream.
Some people like ice cream more than they like people.
Everywhere I look I see trees. Hastings Caves State Reserve, Huon Valley. June 2011.
Have a poem.
In a Garden, Amy Lowell
Gushing from the mouths of stone men
To spread at ease under the sky
In granite-lipped basins,
Where iris dabble their feet
And rustle to a passing wind,
The water fills the garden with its rushing,
In the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns.
Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone,
Where trickle and plash the fountains,
Marble fountains, yellowed with much water.
Splashing down moss-tarnished steps
It falls, the water;
And the air is throbbing with it;
With its gurgling and running;
With its leaping, and deep, cool murmur.
And I wished for night and you.
I wanted to see you in the swimming-pool,
White and shining in the silver-flecked water.
While the moon rode over the garden,
High in the arch of night,
And the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness.
Night and the water, and you in your whiteness, bathing!
There are many things above us. Hastings Caves State Reserve, Huon Valley. June 2011.