When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
Center Hill Lake. Fishing. Hiking. Reading a book. Backing in the boat. Pulling it out and watching the water pour down splashing into the lake from which it came.
Silver Creek. We are washed by the water, our thirst quenched by the rain. Let's go down to the river to pray. He who drinks of my water shall never thirst again.
Gulf of Mexico. Grown up. Down with OPP. Enya's Sail Away at 80 mph. Panama-Destin-Sandestin. Ft. Myers. Mobile.
Atlantic Ocean. Waking at 4 a.m. to ride in the car all day. Jelly fish. Man o' War. Feeling the waves as I lay in bed at night. Then... again... I hope the wart hand wins. Red hair; red shoulders. Freckles on the nose. Boogie boards. I want to go to the beach. I want to go to Bennett's.
Irish Sea. The snotgreen sea. The River Liffey. The River Liffey? Oh yeah, the River Liffey.
Owsley Fork. On the water's edge, I do. Light green top, ivory skirt. Wind blowing. A picture of my now, my future. Rings for three, please. Happily ever after.