Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Love's Labour's Lost Among the Redwoods

Empty wine bottles at our feet. The remnants of cold salads and sliced cheese. The picnic basket, as much as possible in the tight crowd, kicked aside.

Standing to pee I snapped the stem of a wine glass.

The stage among the trees; the stage lights lashed to the trees' trunks, high up. The actors running by.

Their eagerness a kind of joy. Our laughter, too.

The moon coming on, very late, turning the sky, the tops of the trees, vaguely silver.

The only line I remember being: "All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder."

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