This morning, on my usual walk I was struck by how different familiar vistas look on each viewing. After the heavy rain last night everything looked so fresh and alive and I noticed the contrast between various clumps of grasses. And I thought about the uniqueness of each created thing. Awesome.
A Short Ode
All things then stood before us
as they were,
Not in comparison,
But each most rare;
The ‘tree, of many, one,’
The lock of hair,
The weir in the morning sun,
The hill in the darkening air,
Each in its soleness, then and there,
Created one; that one, creation’s care.
Edmund Blunden, A Hong Kong House: Poems 1951-1961 (Collins 1962).
Thanks to Stephen Pentz.