Interlude

Blue sky here, not as blue as the deep azure skies of Tibet, but blue enough, nearly cloudless. Walked dog and self to the bayside beach through Crowe's Pasture, got waved at by many oyster-farmers driving through an otherwise quiet meadow. It reminded me of this poem by Czeslaw Milosz.

GIFT

A day so happy.

Fog lifted early, I worked in the garden.

Hummingbirds were stopping over honeysuckle flowers.

There was no thing on earth I wanted to possess.

I knew no one worth my envying him.

Whatever evil I had suffered, I forgot.

To think that I was once the same man did not embarrass me.

In my body I felt no pain.

When straightening up, I saw the blue sea and sails.

Berkeley, 1971

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