And you — what of your rushed and
useful life? Imagine setting it all down —
papers, plans, appointments, everything,
leaving only a note: "Gone to the fields
to be lovely. Be back when I'm through
with blooming".
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I sing of hemlocks whispering mysteries, Of meadows green with promise, Of lakes with secrets, Of mountain peaks in touch with eternity, Of solitude filled with murmurings we can never quite hear, Of presences that hover just beyond the edge of perception, Of meanings etched in snow, transcribed with wings; I sing the truth Of hidden things.
~ from THE ART OF BEVERLY DOOLITTLE by Elise MacLay and Bev Doolittle