Visited my grandmother yesterday. Ate a lot of chocolates and watched the TV the whole day, just the kind of thing that one can do at any grandmother’s house all over the world.
When boredom got to me, I went around the house to see what I can do. There I discovered a lot of pictures when I was young, preserved in fames or carefully tucked in photo albums.
How much I have changed since then. I remember Wilbur:
The Beautiful Changes
One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides
The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies
On water; it glides
So from the walker, it turns
Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of
Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.
The beautiful changes as a forest is changed
By a chameleon’s tuning his skin to it;
As a mantis, arranged
On a green leaf, grows
Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and proves
Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows.
Your hands hold roses always in a way that
They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and things’ selves for a second finding,
For a moment all that it touches back to