To see a World in a Grain of SandAnd a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
Four memorable lines in a 132-line poem: a great argument for stopping when you’re ahead. Not every lovely opening line (or quattrain) has a great poem attached to it.
But I love the idea of paying attention to the small things, of being here, now. Easier said than done, of course, as for most things.
Sometimes, though, when taking pictures, I am able to be where I am and really see it.
Ah, the memories that simple picture brings. Mom hung the family clothes out there no matter the weather. She had a drier of course, but that made the meter spin.
Jim – It would spin even more now, with our power rates. I think folks also liked the smell of clothes that dried outside . . .
Memories, yes; but the clothespin has become a symbol of the green folks who look askance at people who use driers. You have located this icon on a perfect day for drying. How different the message if the trees were leafless, the sky leaden, and the air full of snowflakes! I recall a Norman Rockwell magazine cover picturing the kerchiefed and bundled laundress and lady of the house carrying under her arm the red “union suit” underwear as stiff as a board and five feet long. We sometimes forget the severity of labour that shortened the lives of our forebears.
Laurna – I know – my life, at least, is almost pain- and labour-free. No wonder they died young.
Elsewhere Blake to the effect that if a grain of sand moves in the desert the whole cosmos is changed. Gives an insight into the consequences of the rampant resource exploration that has been conducted on Gaia since whenever.