Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Diary of a Tuesday Morning

At the conservation area. A Swan Lake ballerina sun gleams behind bare trees. A plane sounds. There's a bit of bird song. The river is a slab of grey. It's two days to Thanksgiving. It's so mild I comfortably sit on a bench & write. I'm not being fussy about what I set down. Clouds and mountains are awash in tint.

Wherever you go, there you are.

I have an image in my mind of an elaborately painted column. Dream true. I go there.

At the Castle of Olana I look out at the clouds, the mountains, the river, and the bridge.

I take photos of columns. Ionic, Doric, Corinthian... Persian. A mashup.

Wherever I go - there you are.

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