I mentioned yesterday that I recently spent an evening sitting on a fire escape and thinking as the sun went down.
It had been a long, ridiculously hot, day and it was a relief to know that I didn’t have to walk any farther or do anything else until the next morning. The top step was quite a good vantage point and I gazed out over the town. Continue reading “horizontal thoughts”
Yesterday at 9am it was still so dark I was hardly able to see whether the garden was still there or whether it had either disappeared under flood-water or been blown away by the wind. Today, though, at around 8:30am:
Early morning mountains sprawl
on the horizon
Every time there’s a break in the storms and the clouds start to peel back from the mountains, I hear the jangle of Donovan’s lyrics in my head. There is a mountain may not be a poem, but the line “The lock upon my garden gate’s a snail” is poetry I’d be proud to have written.
Perhaps I should re-read some of the popular philosophy books on my shelf: they certainly provided plenty of inspiration in the Sixties.
In reality, the mountains were even redder and the moon was rather clearer. Clicking on the photo will give a bigger, slightly brighter, version.
(If you’re wondering, yes, it’s “shopped”, inasmuch as I cloned out some cables. If I’d walked far enough to take the picture without them being in the way, the colours would have been completely lost.)