It grew in the black mud. It grew under the tiger’s orange paws. Its stems thicker than candles, and as straight. Its leaves like the feathers of egrets, but green. The grains cresting, wanting to burst. Oh, blood of the…
It grew in the black mud. It grew under the tiger’s orange paws. Its stems thicker than candles, and as straight. Its leaves like the feathers of egrets, but green. The grains cresting, wanting to burst. Oh, blood of the…
The following “Legend” was found in a little red book by E.C. McCants (Dr. Elliot Crayton McCants, PhD 1865-1953) called History Stories and Legends of South Carolina, 1927, The Southern Publishing Co. Dallas, Texas. The book was brought to me…
Today is Sunday, so rather than talk about art, I think I will use this day to post some. Mary Oliver, the Pulitzer Prize winner for poetry, also lives on an island. Her poems take me to that quiet Sunday…