The first time I brush against the new leaves, though, the earthy aroma swirling around my limbic system, Frost will no longer do.
William Blake gets close, Galway Kinnell closer still, but the words only get in the way, and what I know, or think I know, float like motes in a ray of sun, perceptible, for the moment, before sliding into the darkness that defines the edge of the light.
Tomato, just recently sprouted, sitting in the basement....
Posts
3 comments:
A beautiful reminder that there will be warmth and sun enough to produce a rare treat - sun warmed tomatoes fresh out of the garden. Yummmm!
Der Kathryn,
I had a rare moment this afternoon with some students speaking freely.
Sometimes I think our (life's) purpose is just to consciously recognize a universe that would be missed otherwise.
Stories, food, and drink. Not sure that falls in the real of being a science teacher, but not sure it doesn't, either....
I like that description of life's purpose.
Post a Comment