An iron green still remains to March
and on the lane's steep serpentine off the bluff, the windshield catches in its full stretch the silvered corneas of the Sound.
Under the flowerets such still meek sunlight casts no shadow
and before the pearl-grey, sinuous gaze of the waters to ask whether I should invade my own purposes and sound those misadventures
when, like a new year about to spring energetic in its own blossom, the cherry, the plum, the garden, this.
is it necessary to hyde his eyes to find such beautiful words speaking about spring? in France we name it " la beauté intérieure".
ReplyDeleteI thoroughly enjoyed this. Any fan of Nina Simone and John Fowles is all right with me! (Love that muse photo of Meryl from The French Lieutenant's Woman).
ReplyDeleteIsabelle,
ReplyDeleteTo compare spring's beauty to a person's own sense of failing can bring a shock of contrast . . . but with hope of regeneration.
This man's face shows he hasn't yet absorbed the second part enough yet.
TFool
Timoteo,
ReplyDeleteThank you for dropping by and showing appreciation!
Nina Simone doesn't 'appear' on the radio stations as much as her singing deserves -- even the most respectful 'retro' jazz stations.
As to Fowles, you're the first to mention him in response to anything on this blog. He's a great writer who's gone through what seems to be a 'usual' eclipse when writers die.
I go back to his books again and again. (And Pinter's screenplay for the movie!)
Trulyfool
Heavenly writing. ((sigh))
ReplyDeleteAh, TF, the beauty of our magnificent insignificance....
ReplyDeleteRick
Tess,
ReplyDeleteBetter you should find a spiritual advisor after having associated 'heavenly' with the likes of yours truly,
Trulyfool?
Rick,
ReplyDeleteYes. When I ponder the insignificance, I have to rush out and buy me a Thirsty-two Ouncer to wash away that dry aftertaste!
Screaming on the inside,
Trulyfool