Robert Frost's image of the pasture spring in his short but provokingly enigmatic poem "The Pasture" has often stuck with me as one of venturing to a place where one can clear the waters of the mind, and stay a while to reflect in clarity. Just as the speaker of that poem does so, I wish to do so as well; and just as the speaker invites the reader along in this journey, saying "You come too," I want to invite anyone who may come across this site to clean the pasture spring with me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Song of a Quiet Humanity
What’s the sound of the middle of nowhere? It’s not just the wind through the branches of creosote bushes, pine needles whirling to the soil...
-
One of my favorite verses from the New Testament is from the First Epistle of John, chapter 4, verse 8, ever famous for equating God with ...
-
Cream colored pages, flipping and flapping, Cutting the finger that fed it, the eyes That gave the deadless ink life, crying Silently, drea...
-
Where can I find you? Behind the telephone pole where you first kissed me. How will I know you’re there? Because I told you so. Don’t you h...

No comments:
Post a Comment