I live in the middle of a city, a city filled with trees and plants, and parks and gardens…most of the time these green areas are lush and tended, sometimes not so much..
At the end of my street there is an apt. building and around the side of it almost unnoticed, is an old hedge…low to the ground and unpruned, it’s no longer lush, but straggles and struggles to grow… at this time of year, just as everything is dying, those little sticks bloom out in white round berries, bending this way and that, trapping the brilliant sunshine of a November day….
Part of the Earth Songs collection….
I call it the Swan Song
Watercolour on Arches Not Paper…Toronto Ontario
The silver Swan, who living had no Note,
when Death approached, unlocked her silent throat.
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
thus sang her first and last, and sang no more:
“Farewell, all joys! O Death, come close mine eyes!
“More Geese than Swans now live, more Fools than Wise."Orlando Gibbons