Photo: Gerst
Picking Blueberries, Austerlitz, New York,1957
Once, in summer
in the blueberries,
I fell asleep, and woke
when a deer stumbled against me.I guess
she was so busy with her own happiness
she had grown careless
and was just wandering along
listening
to the wind as she leaned down
to lip up the sweetness.
So, there we were
with nothing between us
but a few leaves, and wind’s
glossy voice
shouting instructions…
Mary Oiver
Photo: Gerst
The street outside our house repaved. Clear bright day.
Oh, honey of an hour,
I never knew thy power,
Prohibit me
Till my minutest dower,
My unfrequented flower,
Deserving be.
Emily Dickinson, Poem 1734
Photo: Gerst.
There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray, love, remember; and there is pansies, that’s for thoughts…
There’s fennel for you, and columbines; there’s rue for you, and here’s some for me; we may call it herb of grace o’ Sundays. O, you must wear your rue with a difference. There’s a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they wither’d all when my father died. They say he made a good end,— [Sings.]
“For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.” (Shakespeare, Hamlet)
Camille Saint-Saëns, “Carnival of Animals, Aquarium”