Tag: pink

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

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and what the soul is, also
I believe I will never quite know.
Though I play at the edges of knowing,
truly I know
our part is not knowing,
but looking, and touching, and loving,
which is the way I walked on,
softly,
through the pale-pink morning light.

— Mary Oliver, from “Bone” in New and Selected Poems vol. Il (Beacon Press, April 15, 2007)

Notes:

  • DK Photo: 6:04 a.m. April 1, 2024 at where else, Cove Island Park. Don’t miss more photos from the magnificent BIG PINK morning walk on April 1st here.
  • Quote Source: PetaltexturedSkies

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

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GO BIG PINK! No April Fool’s Joke. Daybreak. 47° F. 6:04 am. April 1, 2024. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. See more BIG Pink photos from this morning’s walk here.

Sunday Morning

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Don’t forget, as busy as you may be, to quickly raise your head and cast a glance at those great silver clouds and that silent blue ocean in which they are swimming…take notice of the resplendence and glory that overlie this day…because this day will never, ever come again! This day is a gift to you like a rose in full bloom, lying at your feet, waiting for you to pick it up and press it to your lips.

― Rosa Luxemburg, (1871-1919) in “Reform Or Revolution”

Notes:

The Sky Is Mine / Floating on like in a dream…

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Notes:

    • Daybreak. December 12, 2020. 6:30 to 7:00 am. 39° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford CT
    • Post Title: “The Sky is Mine” by David N. Degnan – excerpt:  Head in the clouds, / Living without doubt. / That life is good and / Control is mine. / In that serenity, / That’s where I’d love to be. / Floating on like in a dream. / And in that peace, / I think I could see / Just what living truly means.

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

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Notes:

  • Daybreak. August 31, 2020. 5:59 to 6:08 am. 60° F. Humidity 70%. Wind: 6 mph. Gusts: 7 mph. Cloud Cover: 32%. The Cove, Stamford, CT
  • Inspired (again) by Helen Macdonald: “I kept trying to find the right words to describe certain experiences and failing. My secular lexicon didn’t capture what they were like. You’ve probably had such experiences yourself – times in which the world stutters, turns and fills with unexpected meaning. When rapturousness claims a moment and transfigures it. The deep hush before an oncoming storm; the clapping of wings as a flock of doves rises to wheel against low sun; a briar stem in the sun glittering with blades of hoarfrost. Love, beauty, mystery. Epiphanies, I suppose. Occasions of grace. — Helen Macdonald, Vesper Flights (Grove Press, August 25, 2020)