Derek Walcott

LOVE AFTER LOVE

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,derekwalcott
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Derek Walcott—January 23, 1930—March 17, 2017

 

Here we go again…

My MacBook has been returned to me all safe and sound. Now I have only to get caught up. Hummm. That could take awhile. Especially since I’ve added piano work and exercise to my dailies. This is what drives people to naps.

oftQuote

The Wind & Us

BobGoodPhotog

Bob Good Photography

Downtown La Crosse (my hometown) a couple of nights ago. It seems the wind doesn’t discriminate—the damage of today in Cleveland is a match. Or a challenge. But it doesn’t matter, does it? If you’re in the way of some things, in the path that belongs to someone or something else, you’d best be sure that’s where you’re willing to stand. Or fall.

The Places We Go

gardenOfPensivenessI do not understand how anyone can live without one small place of enchantment to turn to. ~ Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings       ~ Image “Fairytale” by Junko Tamura

Oh yes. And a very smart man, a very sick man, (both the same) once said to me, It’s imperative that you have a place in your mind where you can go when you need. You won’t always have a book nearby, or a piano, or music, or something to cling to. When you need to go somewhere to retreat. Somewhere you can survive. Well, your mind that is. I don’t know how related or connected is your you and your mind.

Reminders of Books

artisticNature

Posted by ArtisticNature in FB.

So many photos, pieces of art, make me think of books. Here I have Robinson CrusoeTreasure IslandMutiny On The Bounty… But not Moby Dick. No, not that. The ship’s too small, the sea too calm. And there’s no dark November in my soul.