something about a peacock

The sun dominated on the last day of spring. See the peacock coming, her flag folded, her flag of war, which looked the same as her flag of love, so you never knew whether she was flying the one or the other. She marched all the way across the clearing, as she often did in the hours when shade was short. Her space—her destiny—was where the sun meets the earth, all mass and energy.

 

one line about being winter's ghost

My nearly invisible wave at them under gray snow clouds.

about a late spring weekend

 

I love rain—I want hours of rain, rain that pools on the ground under weighty skies and then runs paths in and out of the puddles. Rainy weekends are the weekends I want. How about you? Some people say weather is a dull topic of conversation. I guess they are right.

 

(posts) scenes from Virginia's Shenandoah Valley

Some Other Time

About life down this hill

Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.


From "Spring," by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Spring

  -Edna St. Vincent Millay

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.



Note:
First read this in eighth grade.

Roses are in bloom

Spring

Today's were high clouds. They rose up until they altogether lost definition, first being seen, then seen through, and finally seeming to not matter anymore at all. This would be the one thing you want from anything you look up to.