
(Photo; Jeremy Liebman; Dwell)
The accidental scholar and the eternal student of life

| Reakcijos: |

| Reakcijos: |
| Reakcijos: |
New photos by David Evans from the UK's Chester Zoo reveal just how agile a Red Panda mom has to be. Mom has a tight grip on her tiny cub as she navigates the veritable obstacle course that is the red panda cub enclosure. Expert climbers, Red Pandas are catlike in many of their behaviors including grooming, lying outstretched when it's hot, and curling up with tails over their snouts in colder weather.
| Reakcijos: |
After the String Quintet in C, D956
One moment before it starts –
one breath.
Light stills
in the meadow,
stalls at oaks
and the river's silver line.
For an instant
your stomach turns over –
as if you missed yourself
and this minute
and the next
were already a memory.
*
Sometimes,
world slips from beat to beat
like a song.
The afternoon fills
with lokum's evasive scent,
deep notes of cherry,
and there are saucers of honey
and peaches and a girl
who leans on a cushion to sing –
Open your notebook,
catch
how she throws out the tune
as if she tongued
a rose
between her lips –
*
Wanderer, the wide river
shines in the morning sun.
Between the country and the city -
see it run.
You'd like to run with it
to a quiet place, in fields
time and sickness never visit
and joy shields.
Too soon the flood and battened sluice,
the detritus of a life
that's been turned adrift
on this tide
which now seems beautiful and bright:
the river's backdrop to the kiss
you borrowed from daylight
and bring to Dis.
*
Waiting (stateliest of the modes)
among Greek key, acanthus,
shuttered glass
and the light snagged in stucco –
where each façade rises
in stillness
and stone grows
infinitesimally –
you feel a creak and strain:
spring ice
yawing on its tethers.
You poor soul.
Without summer's garlands and girls
you're quite bare,
bespectacled and alone
in that soiled bed.
| Reakcijos: |

| Reakcijos: |

| Reakcijos: |
| Reakcijos: |
The Grandmother placed a candle.
She gave me three kisses telling me they were three dreams
And tucked me in just where I loved being tucked.
Then she went out of the room and the door was shut.
I lay still, waiting for my three dreams to talk;
But they were silent.
Suddenly I remembered giving her three kisses back.
Perhaps, by mistake, I had given my three little dreams.
I sat up in bed.
The room grew big, oh, bigger far than a church.
The wardrobe, quite by itself, as big as a house.
And the jug on the washstand smiled at me:
It was not a friendly smile.
I looked at the basket-chair where my clothes lay folded:
The chair gave a creak as though it were listening for something.
Perhaps it was coming alive and going to dress in my clothes.
But the awful thing was the window:
I could not think what was outside.
No tree to be seen, I was sure,
No nice little plant or friendly pebbly path.
Why did she pull the blind down every night?
It was better to know.
I crunched my teeth and crept out of bed.
I peeped through a slit of blind.
There was nothing at all to be seen
But hundreds of friendly candles all over the sky
In remembrance of frightened children.
I went back to bed …
The three dreams started singing a little song.
| Reakcijos: |
| Reakcijos: |

| Reakcijos: |

| Reakcijos: |