By Katharine Lee BatesGrim stones whose gray lips keep your secret well,
Our hands that touch you touch an ancient terror,
An ancient woe, colossal citadel
Of some fierce faith, some heaven-affronting error.
Rude-built, as if young Titans on this wold
Once played with ponderous blocks a striding giant
Had brought from oversea, till child more bold
Tumbled their temple down with foot defiant.
Upon your fatal altar Redbreast combs
A fluttering plume, and flocks of eager swallows
Dip fearlessly to choose their April homes
Amid your crevices and storm-beat hollows.
Even so in elemental mysteries,
Portentous, vast, august, uncomprehended,
Do we dispose our little lives for ease,
By their unconscious courtesies befriended.
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Tuesday
was pretty uneventful apart from work that had to get done and putting
together our 2023 Shutterfly calendar, which always ends up taking
literally hours longer than I expect! At least that's a fun project,
apart from the times the web site glitched. It was a cool, gorgeous
autumn day, with leaves falling and crunching while we were walking, a
soup-for-lunch kind of day.
Unfortunately the Yankees won and will advance, and I missed the start of the Philly game while watching
Voyager's
"Living Witness" with my Tuesday group (started much better than I'd
remembered, then the ending made me realize why I'd blocked it out).
Some views of Foamhenge at Cox Farms, one of my favorite fall
pilgrimages since I first saw it at Natural Bridge:
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