Tulip

These poor guys (beautifully fragrant tulips) were suffering the ravages of a hail storm when I got home and it's snowing as I write.

Otherwise, another exhausting day with a lot of bonkers system stuff.

'how many moments must ...' - e.e.cummings

how many moments must(amazing each
how many centuries)these more than eyes
restroll and stroll some never deepening beach
locked in foreverish time’s tide at poise,
love alone understands:only for whom
i’ll keep my tryst until that tide shall turn;
and from all selfsubtracting hugely doom
treasures of reeking innocence are born.
Then, with not credible the anywhere
eclipsing of a spirit’s ignorance
by every wisdom knowledge fears to dare,
how the(myself’s own self who’s)child will dance!
and when he’s plucked such mysteries as men
do not conceive–let ocean grow again