I awoke very cold this morning; there's a chill in the air in Sydney. Tomorrow I head to the national capital Canberra for a cookery class weekend. I heard it was 1 degree C there a few nights ago. But all this is temporary, and as far as weather talk, well - we've done it so many, many times before...
I know I am deathless ...
We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers,
There are trillions ahead,
And trillions ahead of them.
Walt Whitman's poem "Song of Myself" from Leaves of Grass, 1st (1855) edition, editor, Malcolm Cowley. New York: Viking, 1959.
Posted by Kurma on 6/5/10; 5:13:43 AM
from the dept.