rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


The night cools and becomes pleasant to feel, but remains too loud with frequent cars going to fast, and lacking frogs and crickets, so does not please my ears. Now an then a bit of breeze will rustle some nearby leaves, but there is no background hum of pine needles. There were great mounds of clouds over the mountains this afternoon, but they were too far away to capture my imagination.

I got a ride to Safeway and bought some things, but shopping took too long. Even after going to that store more than a dozen times over the last few months I still can't remember where things are, and my eyesight is so poor that I struggle to see what is on the shelves. It has become a very strange life. I don't know that I'll ever get used to it.

Sunday Verse

No Ordinary Sun

by Hone Tuwhare

Tree let your arms fall:
raise them not sharply in supplication
to the bright enhaloed cloud.
Let your arms lack toughness and
resilience for this is no mere axe
to blunt nor fire to smother.

Your sap shall not rise again
to the moon’s pull.
No more incline a deferential head
to the wind’s talk, or stir
to the tickle of coursing rain.

Your former shagginess shall not be
wreathed with the delightful flight
of birds nor shield
nor cool the ardour of unheeding
lovers from the monstrous sun.

Tree let your naked arms fall
nor extend vain entreaties to the radiant ball.
This is no gallant monsoon’s flash,
no dashing trade wind’s blast.
The fading green of your magic
emanations shall not make pure again
these polluted skies . . . for this
is no ordinary sun.

O tree
in the shadowless mountains
the white plains and
the drab sea floor
your end at last is written.


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