rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


The warmth was moderate today, as were the clouds which gathered now and then to drag a mile or so of shade across the land, then withdrew into small, white clumps that nevertheless were sufficient to moderate the blueness of the sky. The scent of the jasmine is not yet overpowering, and the grass retains a modest amount of green. Even the birds have been subdued, chirping brief songs then falling silent to let the leaves rustle their say to the soft breezes.

Almost the only things flamboyant amid this serenity are the bright red flowers of the lamb's ear, and they are still few enough to provide only an accent to the day, not a disruption: they are like a brief laugh ringing out on a quiet street, or a sudden gust of wind that rises, and falls as quickly. It's as though everything was dozing, and a single dream arrived as a reminder that there is still a waking world. But such a color as the lamb's ear's blossoms is worth waking to.

Sunday Verse

There Is a Place Beyond Ambition

by Mary Oliver

When the flute players
couldn't think of what to say next

they laid down their pipes,
then they lay down themselves
beside the river

and just listened.
Some of them, after awhile,
jumped up
and disappeared back inside the busy town.
But the rest —
so quiet, not even thoughtful —
are still there,

still listening.

Bonus Sunday Music: I found one of my favorite short pieces by Prokofiev on YouTube. The accompanying video consists of excerpts from a Tim Burton movie, which seems an odd choice, as the music is from the ballet Cinderella, and to my ear has quite a different mood: Happiness.

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