The Inner Valley

Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. ******* ✍  Robert Lee Frost (San Francisco, California, 26 March 1874 ~ Boston, Massachusetts, 29 January 1963). ◙ Artwork: Odilon Redon

In a pocket of earth  I buried all the accents  of my mother tongue  there they lie like needles of pine  assembled by ants  one day the stumbling cry  of another wanderer may set them alight  then warm and comforted  he will hear all night  the truth as lullaby. ******* ✎ John Berger (Stoke Newington, London, England, 5 November 1926 ~ Paris, France, 2 January 2017). ◙ Artwork: Maurice de Vlaminck