“Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie” is a poem written by American singer-songwriter Bob Dylan, and recited live during his April 12, 1963 performance at New York City’s Town Hall. – Uploaded by LynnCamper.
Full poem can be found via the new documentary film “The Lion’s Mouth Opens“.
“And the lion’s mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you underneath”
“There are no lines in nature, only areas of colour, one against another.”
Edouard Manet
“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more”
Lord Byron
The job of the artist is always to deepen the mystery.
Francis Bacon
A Morning Stroll with the Dexters
by Lucas Henry
There’s nothing quite like the warm, humid mornings of summer. Spring, winter, and autumn all have their good points, of course, but it’s the warmth of a sun shortly after daybreak hitting the back of my neck as I’m walking in the pasture that really bolsters my spirits.
I love rising just as the stars are fading from sight and the morning sky is awakening with the brilliant colors of another day’s sunup. Tramping through the tall dewy grass, I am captivated every morning by the surrounding beauty. Although I walk the same route almost every day, I have never tired of watching the robins adamantly hunting for worms, the line of Osage orange trees gently swaying in the wind, or our Dexter cattle munching on the clumps of grass in the pasture.
As these gentle beasts of nature slowly meander across the field, I carefully survey the herd, checking to ensure that none have strayed from home during the night. Satisfied that all are present and accounted for, I quietly approach a nearby young calf and her mother.
Surprised by my unanticipated appearance, the young calf takes a step back as I kneel down on the wet grass. But sensing no immediate danger, as her mother doesn’t even look up from her breakfast, the calf juts her head forward, quizzically looking at this new fellow in her playground. I sit motionless as the calf cautiously approaches me. She stops from time to time to ponder what I’m doing, I suppose, but nevertheless, the gap between us slowly shrinks.
Having happily rested my bones for several minutes, the calf and I finally come face to face. A warm little nose stretches out and sniffs at my knee; I keep still. The little calf’s investigation goes on for a few more seconds as she gently nibbles my pants leg. Suddenly, she springs away, retreating back to the safety of her parent.
I rise from my seat, taking a last look at the spry little Dexter, and continue my stroll around the pasture. Yes, there’s nothing like a summer morning out with the Dexters…
“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”
Martin Luther King Jr.
Kill nothing but time,
Leave nothing but footprints.
Take nothing but pictures,
Keep nothing but memories.
Author unknown
“Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.”
The woods were made for the hunters of dreams,
The brooks for the fishers of song;
To the hunters who hunt for the gunless game
The streams and the woods belong.
Sam Walter Foss
Dust of Snow
by Robert Frost
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
Maverick Mist 