This afternoon I went to sit on Dorothy’s Bench to play a few mind games. The scene was pure beauty but my mind was dark. This poem sums it up.
Dorothy’s Bench II
It's noisy here today.
The streams, while recharged
are almost unheard.
Amidst the leaves birds vie for attention
like hawkers in a busy bazaar.
Gulls scream above the hubbub.
The roar of the waves is drowned out.
Eyes closed, cool breeze on my face
I focus on the beauty
and seek to escape
but the voices scream
and the waves overwhelm.
John Carré Buchanan
18 April 2019
Beautiful.
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