Wordless Wednesday: What a Wonderful World
Please do yourself a favor and go to full screen (the icon to do so will appear in the lower right, after you start the video). Thanks to National Geographic for this.
wild
Such Singing in the Wild Branches
Such Singing in the Wild Branches by Mary Oliver from Owls and Other Fantasies: Poems and Essays Beacon Press, Boston, 2003 It was spring and finally I heard him among the first leaves— then I saw him clutching the limb in an island of shade with his red-brown feathers all trim and neat for the … Read more
The Almost Wordless Wednesday Video
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Saturday Poetry – Sleeping in the Forest
Sleeping In The Forest Mary Oliver I thought the earth remembered me, she took me back so tenderly, arranging her dark skirts, her pockets full of lichens and seeds. I slept as never before, a stone on the riverbed, nothing between me and the white fire of the stars but my thoughts, and they floated … Read more
Wild, Shining, Awakened
Nobody knows where you are How near or how far Shine on you crazy diamond. — David Gilmour, Roger Waters, Rick Wright (Pink Floyd) As we recover what Julia calls “A Sense of Autonomy,” we step it up, and embrace our very own, unique, quirky take on what Artist means. This is deeply individual, like … Read more
Sunday Poetry
The peace of wild things by Wendell Berry When despair grows in meand I wake in the middle of the night at the least soundin fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,I go and lie down where the wood drakerests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. … Read more
Saturday Poetry
Hymn of the Forests (excerpt)by Fiona McLeod (William Sharpe)We are the harps which the winds play,A myriad tones in one vast soundThat the earth hearkens night and day —A ceaseless music swaying roundThe whole wide world, each voiceful treeEchoing the wave-chants of the sea. For even as inland waves that moanBut break not ‘midst the … Read more
Saturday Poetry
Inversnaid— Gerard Manley HopkinsThis darksome burn, horseback brown,His rollrock highroad roaring down,In coop and in comb the fleece of his foamFlutes and low to the lake falls home. A windpuff-bonnet of fawn-frothTurns and twindles over the brothOf a pool so pitchblack, fell-frowning,It rounds and rounds Despair to drowning. Degged with dew, dappled with dew,Are the … Read more