Breakfast Skies and a Morning Walk

Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.

Kahlil Gibran

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Flood

No individual raindrop ever considers itself responsible for the flood   Anon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wet dawn inks

Winter Trees

The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve.
On their blotter of fog the trees
Seem a botanical drawing --
Memories growing, ring on ring,
A series of weddings.

Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery,
Truer than women,
They seed so effortlessly!
Tasting the winds, that are footless,
Waist-deep in history --

Full of wings, otherworldliness.
In this, they are Ledas.
O mother of leaves and sweetness
Who are these pietàs?
The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but chasing nothing.


Sylvia Plath



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the Mountain in the Mist

 

 

Blue Epynt

 

 

Yonder

 

 

Winter in the Wye Valley

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wye Valley, December

 

 

November

So dull and dark are the November days.
The lazy mist high up the evening curled,
And now the morn quite hides in smoke and haze;
The place we occupy seems all the world.

 John Clare, November


 

 

 

 

 

Caged?

 

It’s true, I can’t make you love me. But I can refuse to let you out of your cage.

Jarod Kintz

Dartmoor Pony

 

I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea; Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in Heaven; Yet certain am I of the spot, As if a chart were given.

Emily Dickinson

The Bishop's Cat

Women and cats will do as they please and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.
Robert A Heinlein


This gorgeous cat lives at the Bishop's Palace in Wells, Somerset.





 

 

 

 

Travelling

The only journey is the one within
Rainer Maria Rilke