… From this hour, freedom!
From this hour I ordain myself loosed of limits and
imaginary lines,
Going where I list—my own master, total and abso-
lute,
Listening to others, and considering well what they
say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of
the holds that would hold me.…
~ Poem of The Road by Walt Whitman
Leave Nothing But Your Footprint ❤ Happy Walk
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary’s cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.
~ Billy Collins
Wind in my hair and the scent of lilacs.
The blackbird is singing, accompanied by a woman’s soft humming.
That is the poetry of nature the last day in May.
A wonderful Hawthorn
Tucked between the trees is a magnificent house listed in oak for the deer’s food
One among many moods of the ancient Rådvad
An anonymous mass grave from the cholera epidemic in Copenhagen in 1853, is hidden under hawthorns inside the gate of Taarbæk
Click my picture above to read my post about the Death and the Hawthorn
A path along the anonymous graves in Taarbæk
The pond at Rådvad
Another atmosphere provided from Rådvad
