I cannot think of forever,
I can only love you now, this moment,
And the next, and another after that.
Each one is fresh, the first, the latest, the last.
Each one spawns its own heirs,
in a frenzied swirl of loving moments,
Unique from the last, as snowflakes tossed on drift,
As forest leaves,
As you and me.
"A foot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose."
-- Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road
Kasia and Me
Listening to Tchaikovsky at Ravinia Festival
Grandma Kathy, Thatcher, and Milo
Who's having the most fun?
The macro, the majestic, and the sentimental. My recent works of landscape and floral in oil and pastel, and an homage to my good dog and companion Kei.
