Walks of La

Walks of La Staying sane during the pandemic by walking my way through LA, finding beauty in the everyday.

“The days have been growing shorter, imperceptibly but inescapably darker…. Heading into the night of the winter solstic...
12/22/2024

“The days have been growing shorter, imperceptibly but inescapably darker…. Heading into the night of the winter solstice, every spiritual tradition has some kind of festival of light. We’re all just whistling in the dark, hoping against hope that someone up there will see these little Hanukkah candles and get the hint.”

– Lawrence Kushner
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This morning as I walked along the lake shore,I fell in love with a wrenand later in the day with a mousethe cat had dro...
12/18/2024

This morning as I walked along the lake shore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.

In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.

This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.

The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.

No lust, no slam of the door—
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.

No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor—
just a twinge every now and then

for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.

But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.

After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,

so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.
I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone.

- Billy Collins, “Aimless Love”
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“I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,” said Alice a little timidly; “but it’s no use going back t...
10/31/2024

“I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,” said Alice a little timidly; “but it’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”
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- Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland / Through the Looking Glass
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✨🎃 Halloween in LA 🎃✨
10/29/2024

✨🎃 Halloween in LA 🎃✨

Independence Hall, Philadelphia.April 2023.🎆🔔🇺🇸🌭🍔🎇 #1776
07/04/2024

Independence Hall, Philadelphia.
April 2023.
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There is May in books forever;May will part from Spenser never;May’s in Milton, May’s in Prior,May’s in Chaucer, Thomson...
05/08/2024

There is May in books forever;
May will part from Spenser never;
May’s in Milton, May’s in Prior,
May’s in Chaucer, Thomson, Dyer;
May’s in all the Italian books:—
She has old and modern nooks,
Where she sleeps with nymphs and elves,
In happy places they call shelves,
And will rise and dress your rooms
With a drapery thick with blooms.
Come, ye rains, then if ye will,
May’s at home, and with me still;
But come rather, thou, good weather,
And find us in the fields together.

- James Henry Leigh Hunt, ‘May and the Poets’
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When the warm sun, that bringsSeed-time and harvest, has returned again,‘T is sweet to visit the still wood, where sprin...
05/01/2024

When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
‘T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.

I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.

From the earth’s loosened mould
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with winter’s cold,
The drooping tree revives.

The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
The forest openings.

When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light, the green slope throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,
And wide the upland glows.

And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o’er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out and the moon dips her horn,
And twinkles many a star.

Inverted in the tide
Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw,
And the fair trees look over, side by side,
And see themselves below.

Sweet April! many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
Life’s golden fruit is shed.

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “An April Day”
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Over the land is April,Over my heart a rose;Over the high, brown mountainThe sound of singing goes.Say, love, do you hea...
05/01/2024

Over the land is April,
Over my heart a rose;
Over the high, brown mountain
The sound of singing goes.
Say, love, do you hear me,
Hear my sonnets ring?
Over the high, brown mountain,
Love, do you hear me sing?

By highway, love, and byway
The snows succeed the rose.
Over the high, brown mountain
The wind of winter blows.
Say, love, do you hear me,
Hear my sonnets ring?
Over the high, brown mountain
I sound the song of spring,
I throw the flowers of spring.
Do you hear the song of spring?
Hear you the songs of spring?

- Robert Louis Stevenson, “Over The Land Is April”
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“After the Winter”Some day, when trees have shed their leaves🍃 And against the morning’s white The shivering birds benea...
03/23/2024

“After the Winter”

Some day, when trees have shed their leaves
🍃 And against the morning’s white
The shivering birds beneath the eaves
🍃 Have sheltered for the night,
We’ll turn our faces southward, love,
🍃 Toward the summer isle
Where bamboos spire the shafted grove
🍃 And wide-mouthed orchids smile.

And we will seek the quiet hill
🍃 Where towers the cotton tree,
And leaps the laughing crystal rill,
🍃 And works the droning bee.
And we will build a cottage there
🍃 Beside an open glade,
With black-ribbed blue-bells blowing near,
🍃 And ferns that never fade.

- Claude McKay

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“Primavera“Spring comes quickly: overnight the plum tree blossoms,the warm air fills with bird calls.In the plowed dirt,...
03/23/2024

“Primavera“

Spring comes quickly: overnight the plum tree blossoms,
the warm air fills with bird calls.

In the plowed dirt, someone has drawn a picture of the sun
with rays coming out all around
but because the background is dirt, the sun is black.
There is no signature.

Alas, very soon everything will disappear: the bird calls, the delicate blossoms. In the end, even the earth itself will follow the artist’s name into oblivion.

Nevertheless, the artist intends a mood of celebration.

How beautiful the blossoms are-emblems of the resilience of life.
The birds approach eagerly.

- Louise Glück
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“Today”If ever there were a spring day so perfect,so uplifted by a warm intermittent breezethat it made you want to thro...
03/23/2024

“Today”

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house

and unlatch the door to the canary’s cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies

seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.

- Billy Collins
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Drama at the beach in Winter🐚🐧📣🐧🪶🌊🦀
12/21/2023

Drama at the beach in Winter
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