Dinesh's photos

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When all thoughts Are exhausted I slip into the woods And gather A pile of shepherd’s purse. ~ Ikkyu

HBM Ye all -- and have a good week

HBM Ye all, and A Happy New year too

Beneath the blossoms with a pot of wine, No friends at hand, so I poured alone; I raised my cup to invite the moon, Turned to my shadow, and we became three. Now the moon had never learned about drinking, And my shadow had merely followed my form, But I quickly made friends with the moon and my shadow; To find pleasure in life, make the most of the spring. Whenever I sang, the moon swayed with me; Whenever I danced, my shadow went wild. Drinking, we shared our enjoyment together; Drunk, then each went off on his own. But forever agreed on dispassionate revels, We promised to meet in the far Milky Way. ~ Li Po

Slowly the evening changes into the clothes held for it by a row of ancient trees; you look: and two worlds grow separate from you, one ascending to heaven, another, that falls; and leave you, belonging not wholly to either one, not quite as dark as the house that remains silent, not quite as certainly sworn to eternity as that which becomes star each night and rises— and leave you (unsayably to disentangle) your life with all its immensity and fear and great ripening, so that, all but bounded, all but understood, it is by turns stone in you and star. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHrjTXZnltY&feature=related www.youtube.com/watch?v=s9HnRZlMiKQ www.youtube.com/watch?v=VldKoqgDvoI&feature=related HBM Ye, all and have a great week

I turn around on the gravel and go back to the house for a book, something to read at the doctor's office, and while I am inside, running the finger of inquisition along a shelf, another me that did not bother to go back to the house for a book heads out on his own, rolls down the driveway, and swings left toward town, a ghost in his ghost car, another knot in the string of time, a good three minutes ahead of me — a spacing that will now continue for the rest of my life. Sometimes I think I see him a few people in front of me on a line or getting up from a table to leave the restaurant just before I do, slipping into his coat on the way out the door. But there is no catching him, no way to slow him down and put us back in synch, unless one day he decides to go back to the house for something, but I cannot imagine for the life of me what that might be. He is out there always before me, blazing my trail, invisible scout, hound that pulls me along, shade I am doomed to follow, my perfect double, only bumped an inch into the future, and not nearly as well-versed as I in the love poems of Ovid — I who went back to the house that fateful winter morning and got the book. ~ Billy Collins

It isn’t very far as highways lie. I might be back by nightfall, having seen The rough pines, and the stones, and the clear water. Friends argue that I might be wiser for it. They do not hear the far-off Yankee whisper: How dull we grow from hurrying here and there! Many have gone, and think me half a fool To miss a day away in the cool country. Maybe. But in a book I read and cherish, Going to Walden is not so easy a thing As a green visit. It is the slow and difficult Trick of living, and finding it where you are. “Going to Walden” ~ Mary Oliver

We knew it would rain, for all the morn A spirit on slender ropes of mist Was lowering its golden buckets down Into the vapory amethyst. Of marshes and swamps and dismal fens-- Scooping the dew that lay in the flowers, Dipping the jewels out of the sea, To sprinkle them over the land in showers. We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed The white of their leaves, the amber grain Shrunk in the wind--and the lightning now Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain! ~ Thomas Bailey Aldrich