A Rose in a Vase Full of Roses

The roses in Mr. Hunter's garden are in full bloom,

so when he saw this bouquet, Mr. H

 tucked himself in with the Yves Piagets, the Cecile Brunners, 

and the other spring astonishments.

May 2012

I wouldn't mind being a rose
in a field full of roses. 

Fear has not yet occurred to them, nor ambition.
Reason they have not yet thought of.
Neither do they ask themselves how long they must be roses, and then what.
Or any other foolish question.

          Mary Oliver, from "Roses, Late Summer"

Witness: Cotopaxi

On the short road from Hosteria La Cienega back to the Pan-American Highway, we came upon a lovely, wide view of the Cotopaxi volcano.  Throughout the day, Cotopaxi's snow-capped peak had been hidden mostly behind clouds, with occasional quick glimpses of the snow line.  

But the mountain still had such a presence for us.  It reminded me of Denise Levertov's wonderful poem, "Witness," which she wrote about another volcano: Mount Rainier in Washington.

Witness

Sometimes the mountain

is hidden from me in veils

of cloud, sometimes

I am hidden from the mountain

in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,

when I forget or refuse to go

down to the shore or a few yards

up the road, on a clear day,

to reconfirm

that witnessing presence.

Denise Levertov

The "witnessing presence" of Cotopaxi.

 Cotopaxi Volcano

Ecuador

June 2011