Waking this morning, I felt
that all my nerves
were dangling,
quivering
like the last leaves
of some ancient autumnal oak,
awaiting the quick
sharp
merciful
breath of a north wind.
Later this morning, I felt
that all my senses
were growing
pulsing
like the first buds
of some young and vernal oak,
quickening in the warm
sweet
fresh
winds of spring.
Extrapolating this afternoon,
good humour recovered,
chuckling,
chortling,
at my germinating metaphor
on the oak of life:
my brain an acorn green,
small,
fragile,
but still to grow.
Welcome, and Namaste
Greetings fellow travellers,
For you American friends visiting, you will notice that this old Canadian uses Canadian English in this blog: kindly bear with me. As I blog primarily on subjects that are vitally interesting to me, I appreciate all feedback.
As I tend to be a bit of a language usage freak, I will, as required, edit obscenity and rude comments. That said, I welcome your opinions and discussion.
May your Dharma be clear
Peace
"If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumb'red here,
While these visions did appear."
Puck’s epilogue to A Midsummer Night’s Dream
