Monday, 9 December 2013

Amsterdam at Christmas

The words in my head today are from the 17th-century poet George Herbert :

And now in age I bud again
After so many deaths I live and write.
I once more smell the dew and rain
And relish versing.
O my only light
It cannot be
that I am he
On whom thy tempersts fell all night

I meditate on age and birth and light ... more soon, now I have an appointment!

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