Providing a bully pulpit, a perch, a roof, a soap box for fiddlers, Quakers, Seekers, roosters, malcontents, true radicals, free thinkers or anyone with a beating heart and a working mind.
In the spirit of Thoreau's chanticleer.
"I do not propose to write an ode to dejection, but to brag as lustily as chanticleer in the morning, standing on his roost, if only to wake my neighbors up."
Sunday, June 10, 2007
from SABBATHS 2001
Sit and be still until in the time of no rain you hear beneath the dry wind's commotion in the trees the sound of flowing water among the rocks, a stream unheard before, and you are where breathing is prayer.
1 comment:
Beautiful. Thank you.
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