My streams of thought meet here
Negotiate the narrow aisle, find Zone 5 Seat 21; stow baggage in overhead bins, take your seats, fasten belts and become sardines squashed in a can. As engines roar to life you all pray those bins... and your bladders... stay shut for the whole trip.
I’m going back to the world of art to do a response to Crimson’s Creative Challenge #142
“Here’s your study for today.”
Art student: “I have to paint that!”
Tutor: “Easy peasy.”
“But it’s so bleak!”
“Then add some interest. A fence, a river, a bird even. Create! Go wild with that brush.”
“If you say so…” He grabs a brush and starts dabbing.
After the last brush stroke, he calls his tutor over.
“How’s this? Ready for the Louvre?”
Tutor: “Um… Definitely unique.”
“I’m calling it, ‘EL CONDOR PASA’.”
“Looks like a robin hunting caterpillars.”
“Robin? Caterpillars! Ouch! We artists are sensitive people you know.”
“Yeah. So I’m here to toughen you up before the critics start firing their big guns. Try again…aim for something more abstract.”
The student grumbles, sets his masterpiece aside and sets another canvas on the easel. Splash, splash goes the brush.
Later…
“How’s this?”
“Definitely better! You’ll be a Van Gogh yet.”
misguided moon
shines in mid-afternoon
snow white in July
Many people have written about the joys of coming home, of rediscovering the treasures you were taking for granted, and one wise writer once declared that “HOME” is the nicest word. Yes, it was great to visit dear friends elsewhere, but now we are home again, and very glad to be here. 🙂
by Edgar A. Guest
The joy of getting home again
is the sweetest thrill I know.
Though travelers by ship or train
are smiling when they go,
the eye is never quite so bright,
the smile so wide and true,
as when they pass the last home light
and all their wandering’s through.
Oh, I have journeyed down to sea
and traveled far by rail,
but naught was quite so fair to me
as that last homeward trail.
Oh, nothing was in London town,
or Paris gay, or Rome
with all its splendor and renown
so good to see as home.
‘Tis good to take these lovely trips,
‘tis good to get away,
there’s pleasure found on sailing ships,
but travel as you may
you’ll learn as most of us have learned,
wherever you may roam,
you’re happiest when your face is turned
toward the lights of home.
From the book, Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest,
©1934 by the Reilly & Lee Co
by Edgar Guest
Today I saw the sun come up, like Neptune from the sea;
I saw him light a cliff with gold and wake a distant tree.
I saw him shake his shaggy head and laugh the night away
and toss unto a sleeping world another golden day.
The waves, which had been black and cold, came in with silver crests;
I saw the sunbeams gently wake the song birds in their nests.
The slow-retreating night slipped back and, strewn on field and lawn,
on every blade of grass I saw the jewels of the dawn.
Never was a monarch ushered in with such a cavalcade,
no hero bringing victory home has seen such wealth displayed.
In honor of the coming day the humblest plant and tree
stood on the curbstone of the world in radiant livery.
Pageants of splendor man may plan, with robes of burnished gold;
on horses from Arabia may prance the knight of old;
heralds on silver horns may blow, and kings come riding in,
but I have seen God’s pageantry — I’ve watched a day begin!
From his book, Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest,
©1934 by the Reilly & Lee Co
