On a walk



On a walk you might find little grass and mosses growing without fear of the trees. They seem to reproduce a miniature forest, where ” insects live their lives – and die : a people world it is ; – in size a tiny room”…  like a floating island. -C.S.


“I paddled as lonely as a cloud”

or “He paddled as solitary as a…”

Man as immersed into and part of nature or rather an intruder? A good question for anyone contemplating this picture I have just taken.

In any case, such a scenery on an ‘ordinary’ morning in spring really invites to write poetry and to capture the moment as the ‘extraordinary’.
Or is it an ‘extraordinary’ scenery that just needs to be described in ‘ordinary language’? I wonder what Wordsworth or Mary Shelley would answer to this question  – A.K

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