Wednesday, April 11, 2012

limpid gray

Scotio River today, Dublin, Ohio


Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth! 
Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees! 
Earth of departed sunset
earth of the mountains misty-topt! 
Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue! 
Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river! 
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! 
Far-swooping elbow'd earth
rich apple-blossom'd earth! 
Smile, for your lover comes.

― Walt Whitman





15 comments:

  1. limpid gray
    could be a relative of mine

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  2. Giggle...your long lost cousin Limpid Gray...Limp for short...

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  3. Whitman is so soothing.

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  4. Good old Walt!
    Beautiful photograph also...

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  5. I like it. It reminds me of winter days in our area.

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  6. Thank you...I'm strangely compelled to take drive-by shots of the river every time I cross the bridge...it never looks the same way twice...

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  7. The river looks very unsullied. I'm sure WW would have been very tickled by John's opening comment!

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  8. Limpid Gray ... who knew it could be so stunning!

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  9. I think dear Walt must have seen this view of your dear Scotio River.

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  10. Gail, I think the lovely Scioto must have been Whitman's muse...

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  11. Grey it is. Somehow, almost nondescript.

    Brighter days will come, when barren branches burst forth in green.

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  12. smile oh transcendent earth
    goddess of creation
    mother of immortal children

    smile and swaddle your ill mannered abusers
    who tear away and pray
    for guidance and wealth

    smile o heavenly bosom of tenderness
    enraptured upon you we suckle
    and sleep suckle and sleep

    always translucent
    Earth parent we know
    not by sight of your eyes
    but by connection to our navel

    dangling our cord still drips
    your tonic thick and sweet
    salt and sugar
    our double helix
    whispers a reminder
    of our legacy

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  13. So earthy...so elegant...thank you Dub...

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Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)