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.
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,
and disappeared back inside the busy town.
But the rest —
so quiet, not even thoughtful —
are still there,
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.