LET THE RAIN KISS

Another Kind Of Grass

tumblr_mjmvgyxXZP1rqhds5o1_400“Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby.”

Langston Hughes

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SILVER (WALTER DE LA MARE)

Another Kind Of Grass

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Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.

Walter de la Mare

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The Search for Lost Lives – James Tate

Another Kind Of Grass

I was chasing this blue butterfly down
the road when a car came by and clipped me.   
It was nothing serious, but it angered me and
I turned around and cursed the driver who didn’t
even slow down to see if I was hurt.  Then I
returned my attention to the butterfly which   
was nowhere to be seen.  One of the Doubleday   
girls came running up the street with her toy
poodle toward me.  I stopped her and asked,
“Have you seen a blue butterfly around here?”
“It’s down near that birch tree near Grandpa’s,”
she said. “Thanks,” I said, and walked briskly
toward the tree.  It was fluttering from flower
to flower in Mr.  Doubleday’s extensive garden,   
a celestial blueness to soothe the weary heart.   
I didn’t know what I was doing there. I certain-
ly didn’t want to capture it.  It was like
something I had known in…

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A Stream Flowing

Another Kind Of Grass

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Now I saw a stream flowing;
Now neither bank nor bridge was seen.
Now I saw a bush in bloom;
Now neither rose nor thorn was seen.

Lalla

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HIS HEART WAS DARKER THAN THE STARLESS NIGHT – EMILY DICKINSON

Another Kind Of Grass

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His Heart was darker than the starless night
For that there is a morn
But in this black Receptacle
Can be no Bode of Dawn

EMILY DICKINSON

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The Search for Lost Lives – James Tate

I was chasing this blue butterfly down
the road when a car came by and clipped me.   
It was nothing serious, but it angered me and
I turned around and cursed the driver who didn’t
even slow down to see if I was hurt.  Then I
returned my attention to the butterfly which   
was nowhere to be seen.  One of the Doubleday   
girls came running up the street with her toy
poodle toward me.  I stopped her and asked,
“Have you seen a blue butterfly around here?”
“It’s down near that birch tree near Grandpa’s,”
she said. “Thanks,” I said, and walked briskly
toward the tree.  It was fluttering from flower
to flower in Mr.  Doubleday’s extensive garden,   
a celestial blueness to soothe the weary heart.   
I didn’t know what I was doing there. I certain-
ly didn’t want to capture it.  It was like
something I had known in another life, even if
it was only in a dream, I wanted to confirm it.   
I was a blind beggar on the streets of Cordoba
when I first saw it, and now, again it was here.
The Search For Lost LivesJames Tate
Cinemagraph: Butteryplanet

Running Out

Source: Wordstuck

ALWAYS WASH YOUR HANDS

NO REASON… ERNEST HEMINGWAY

fountain - autumn

“You expected to be sad in the fall.  Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light.  But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen.  When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason.”

Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Gif: annstreetstudio