13 September 2011


Slowly evening takes on the garments held for it by a line of ancient trees. You look, and the world recedes from you. Part of it moves heavenward, the rest falls away.

And you are left, belonging to neither fully, not quite so dark as the silent house, not quite so sure of eternity as that shining now in the night sky, a point of light. You are left, for reasons you can't explain, with a life that is anxious and huge, so that, at times confined, at times expanding, 
it becomes in you now stone, now star.
Book of Images

Because at times we are confined and at times expanding, 
now stone, now star.

Photos from our next door neighbors' balcony two nights ago 
(thanks Lucia).
Poetry from "A Year With Rilke" kindly hosted by Ruth and Lorenzo.


  1. Oh, my word. Those photos are incredible. You have the perfect balcony in the perfect landscape!

  2. Those photos are absolutely magnificent. I think the evening sky in September could possible be one to inspire some poetry.

  3. Those pictures don't even look real. They are incredible! And the poetry is a perfect companion to them...

  4. Those are scenes that, were they painted on a canvas, would cause people to say, "That's so unrealistic." Mother Nature's palette surpasses that of mere mortals anytime. Magnificent.

  5. Nancy, The sky was just on fire that night.

    Sally, Perhaps. Stay tuned.

    DJan, When I saw the colors, I wanted to find poetry to go with the photos.

    Lauren, 'Twas.

    Patti, True and aren't we lucky to have cameras to capture it?


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