After all those years | I'm still Bertil Kjellberg • Sweden | stillife DOT blog [at] gmail DOT com
forts., en blogg på svenska | Shorthand | Theme by nostrich; some amendments by me.
The Human Calendar © Craig Giffen
Text reblogged from Mythology of Blue
A Bird, came down the Walk -
He did not know I saw -
He bit an Angle Worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,
And then, he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass -
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass -
He glanced with rapid eyes,
That hurried all abroad -
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought,
He stirred his Velvet Head. -
Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers,
And rowed him softer Home -
Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,
Leap, plashless as they swim.
-Emily Dickinson, “A Bird, came down the Walk - (359)”
Photo reblogged from Picture this..
James Abbott McNeill Whistler (1834 -1903)
Reading by Lamplight. Etching, c1859.
Photo reblogged from Mythology of Blue
There are songs too wide for sound. There are quiet
places where something stopped a long time
ago and the days began to open
their mouths toward nothing but the sky.-William Stafford, excerpt from the poem, “Answerers”
Image: Valériane Leblond, Haid o ddrudwy: a swirl of birds (a murmuration of starlings)
Quote reblogged from wish!
I think the virtue I prize above all others is curiosity.
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