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183. Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me? ~Walt Whitman


Bette A. Stevens:

Need some inspiration? There’s nothing like Nature, a little Walt Whitman and a bit of Shakespeare, too… ~ Bette A. Stevens http://www.4writersandreaders.com

 

Originally posted on Sacred Touches:

And this our life,
exempt from public haunt,
finds tongues in trees,
books in running brooks,
sermons in stones,
and good in everything.
~William Shakespeare

Image

Standing beneath the Shumard Red Oak made me feel like I was standing in a temple of the Most High.  The breeze was ruffling its leaves, and they in turn were prompting sacred tongues to utter incantations of their divine purpose.  For though the leaves face eminent extinction and expulsion from the branches, in their dying they’ll fall and create warm blankets to cover the ground.  In so doing they will protect the life that lies beneath the surface during winter’s cold, cold days.  Even at the close of winter their goodness will not be at an end for as they deteriorate, the remaining bits and pieces will add nutrients to enhance the soil.  Thus goes the circle of life and the interdependency of all…

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Windy Nights, poem by Robert Louis Stevenson


Bette A. Stevens:

Poem perfect for a windy autumn night! ~ Bette A. Stevens

 

Originally posted on Silver Birch Press:

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WINDY NIGHTS
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Whenever the moon and stars are set,
            Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
            A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?
 
Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
            And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
            By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again. 

PAINTING: “Windy Night” by Marilyn Jacobson, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

EDITOR’S NOTE: A fascinating project about Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) is currently in the works — a film about his life in San Francisco, with a screenplay by G.E. Gallas. Find out more at gegallas.wordpress.com.

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Rhapsody on a Windy Night, poem by T.S. Eliot


Bette A. Stevens:

Love T.S. Eliot. Just right for a windy night… Bette A. Stevens

 

Originally posted on Silver Birch Press:

Image
RHAPSODY ON A WINDY NIGHT (Excerpt)
by T.S. Eliot

Twelve o’clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions.
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium…
***
Editor’s Note: “As a madman shakes a dead geranium” — what a stunning line! T.S. Eliot never ceases to amaze…

Read “Rhapsody on a Windy Night” in its entirety at poets.org.

Painting by Mike Grubb, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Find more of the artist’s work at fineartamerica.com.

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Clouds and Seasons


Bette A. Stevens:

Simply sensational pictures, beautifully captured in Ivon Prefontaine’s poetry!

 

Originally posted on Teacher as Transformer:

Kathy’s niece took these pictures of boomers the other night west of Edmonton. Kathy and I talked about what we saw in the clouds. There is a lot in there and yesterday, as I walked, I understood clouds meaning something different during different seasons of life.

The spring of childhood,

Clouds were homes

Where

My imagined friends

Came to life

Nursery rhymes, fairy tale, cartoons

People lived there.

A voice called: “Hurry home before it rains.”

Spring met summer

Romance arrived

A single rain drop touched us

We scrambled

Holding hands

We discovered shelter

In each other

And laughed: “Let it rain.”

The dog days of summer arrived

I looked up

Storm clouds overhead

Ominous

Please, I need to finish the lawn

Or there goes the BBQ tonight

I hear my voice: “Hurry home before it rains; so much to do.”

In autumn

A safe distance

We view

But, don’t…

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