The Wall

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“What a dear old wall that is that runs along by the river there! I never pass it without feeling better for the sight of it. Such a mellow, bright, sweet old wall; what a charming picture it would make, with the lichen creeping here, and the moss growing there, a shy young vine peeping over the top at this spot, to see what is going on upon the busy river, and the sober old ivy clustering a little farther down! There are fifty shades and tints and hues in every ten yards of that old wall. . . . It looks so peaceful and so quiet, and it is such a dear old place to ramble round in the early morning before many people are about.” Jerome K. Jerome, “Three Men In A Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog)” Ch. 6 (1889)

Venus, Through The Trees

The brilliant display catches my eye
as I sit and wait.
The cold air of the damp night seeps into my bones
as I sit and wait.

Through the trees, without a sound
Venus sails across the sky.

The formless void pierced by her brilliant light
traces nothing of her orbit; but,
through leaves she peeks
and behind the branches she abides, hides, 
bride of the sky.

Pageantry of night, stellar delight
as I sit and wait.
The cold air of the damp night seeps into my bones
as I sit and wait.

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