Solemn Traveling
It has been solemn traveling A night and a day This road running straightly northwards; None went my way. — Rosamund Dargan Thomson
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Memorial Day
The morning may be brilliant; the season is one of brilliances—sunlight through the fountained willow behind us, its splayed shadow spreading westward, our shadows westward, irregular across damp grass, the close-set stones. — Michael Anania
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Cézanne
… nothing can stop the truth of it art is all we can say to reverse the chain of events and make a pileup of passion to match the stars No choice but between a certain variation hard to perceive in a shade of blue…
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The morning after / my death
Green was the forest drenched with shadows the roads were serpentine A redwood tree stood alone with its lean and lit body unable to follow the cars that went by with frenzy a tree is always an immutable traveller. — by Etel Annan
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Morning
Color is new upon each sunlit surface; lifting lines are reimbursed with flight; cool and level lie the planes of morning covered with light. — by Edith Henrich
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