From "Planet Earth"
By P.K. Page
It has to be loved the way a laundress loves her linens,
the way she moves her hands caressing the fine muslins
knowing their warp and woof,
like a lover coaxing, or a mother praising.
It has to be loved as if it were embroidered
with flowers and birds and two joined hearts upon it.
It has to be stretched and stroked.
It has to be celebrated.
O this great beloved world and all the creatures in it.
It has to be spread out, the skin of this planet.
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From Poet's Choice in this morning's Washington Post Book World. Edward Hirsch writes that P.K. Page "is one of the finest and most exuberant Canadian poets...a celebratory writer with a keen eye, a roving intelligence and a compassionate sensibility. Page is also a graphic artist and brings a strong visual sensibility to her writings. For her, the analogy between poetry and painting is exact and exacting: "Just as the painter must, from two make three/or conjure light, build pigments layer on layer/to form an artefact, so I must probe/with measuring mind and eye to mix a blue/mainly composed of air."
Zeus promoting education. Well, that's how it looked to me.
Rather than having ugly metal cell phone towers, the border between New York and Connecticut has a couple of these enormous fake "trees" to relay calls. (As you can see it had begun to drizzle when I took this through the windshield.)
A river valley on the approach to Bristol, Connecticut.
The Empire State Building from New Jersey with the Meadowlands grasses partially obscuring the view. This was once the tallest building in the world.
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