Sun and Water - The Open Book Café

Ponta Da Piedade by publicdomainstockphotos © Creative Commons Zero (CC0)

The Open Book Café:

Sun and Water 

Welcome to The Open Book Café: a weekly gathering of book lovers, from around the world. Share your thoughts on moving passages, and characters in play. What better way than to spend a small sweet slice of a somber Sunday?

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Over the last few days, we have experienced the fallout of tropical storm Fay,...

'And now the cordial clouds have shut all in,

And gently swells the wind to say all's well;

The scattered drops are falling fast and thin,

Some in the pool, some in the flower-bell.

Drip drip the trees for all the country round,

And richness rare distills from every bough;

The wind alone it is makes every sound,

Shaking down crystals on the leaves below.'

— By Henry David Thoreau

'Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came; and if the village had been beautiful at first, it was now in the full glow and luxuriance of its richness. The great trees, which had looked shrunken and bare in the earlier months, had now burst into strong life and health; and stretching forth their green arms over the thirsty ground, converted open and naked spots into choice nooks, where was a deep and pleasant shade from which to look upon the wide prospect, steeped in sunshine, which lay stretched out beyond. The earth had donned her mantle of brightest green; and shed her richest perfumes abroad. It was the prime and vigour of the year; all things were glad and flourishing.' — Oliver Twist, by Charles Dickens

These next three that I found are from Narrow River to the North: Poems & Prose of the Penobscot Watershed, Amapola Books, Bangor, Maine, 2011

The water is taking shape —

it’s not the currents in the river

but the river in the currents.

...

Even in its narrowest flows

or standing pools —

the river demands to be heard.

Untitled

When I was eye to eye

with the bottom of the river,

I knew it for what it was: thinking

curves space, makes rocks look

rubber. The eyes of the salmon

see heat, see movement

from above. My eyes, however,

care about color, not heat;

my heart is in the water.

Treasures Found (Landscape) by MultiMediaSusan.com

Walking Along The Seashore (Haiku)

Picking up pebbles

Or seashells strewn on soft sand

Pure relaxation.

© Paul Holmes

As she lowered herself to a log, she could see how the pattern of the water changed as it made its way past a rock that jutted from the river. She knew the rock well: in the early floods of spring it lay submerged, hidden from your eyes though the river knew where it was and washed across it, but by midsummer it always was exposed. Still, the river did not stop at its base, wailing, blocking all the water coming after it. No, it continued to flow, parted, foamed, but then became whole again after it had passed the rock, leaving its impact on the rock, just as the impact of every hour she had lived was still with her, shaping her like the people who had fed her dreams... All at once she felt as if she were the river,...

What the river was showing her now was that she could flow beyond the brokenness, redeem herself, and fuse once more...

Over the years the rock would be transformed, just like the countless stones at the bottom of the riverbed, stones you couldn't see; they affected the flow but didn't impede its progress, its momentum, it destination.

- Stones From The River, by Ursula Hegi

The Oriole sings in the greening grove

As if he were half-way waiting,

The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green,

Timid, and hesitating.

The rain comes down in a torrent sweep

And the nights smell warm and pinety,

The garden thrives, but the tender shoots

Are yellow-green and tiny.

Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill,

Streams laugh that erst were quiet,

The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue

And the woods run mad with riot.

by Paul Laurence Dunbar

'Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.'

― Margaret Atwood, The Penelopiad

Summer Souvenirs

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