I'm feeling the history today. We're going out on an Erie Canal boat through some historical locks and along the western NY landscape. Should be beautiful and inspiring; I'll be bringing my camera with me for sure!
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Monk's Mount
It's a contemplative rain that falls on Monk's Mount,
that courses down in frenzied streamlets eager
for lower ground, making scenic dribble
of the rock faces, scattering withered flowers
and rabbit droppings together, touching
each leaf with lingering favor.
On these afternoons Reverend Michael takes his setter
and halfway down Blaker Road, lets him loose.
They walk together along the old rectory wall
before the dog's patience twitters away;
then he darts ahead, his tail a rod.
He pauses at the broken gate to look back.
Come on, he's saying, nozzle in the air. Come on!
There's the stream to see yet, and the owls that live
in the great oak tree, and that family of gophers
what burrow under Mrs. Surrey's garden.
Do you tarry? Do you tarry?
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