You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘solitude’ tag.
To me, this is a dream spot. A lone white house, surrounded by green, at the edge of the sea. On the cliffs above is a little whitewashed town, and just off to the left is Worm’s Head. A place to live, to write, to love.
Quote of the day: “If a thing loves, it is infinite.” – William Blake
My favorite cowboy boots
Today’s guest poet – Greg Hewitt
Beyond The Pane
The frescoed cloister is closed.
No echo of omniscience
escapes to wind or metaphor.
A cottage holds three bowls,
earthen and chipped, on a table
made of planks smoothed by the surf.
One holds buttermilk;
another, tomatoes pale as moons;
the third, eggs the color of sand.
On the sill you would place a globe
of ivory roses to echo
the dolphin skull beyond the pane,
and think how sonorous, how bold,
this science of solitude.