The Land of Fruits and Vegetables

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The light dusting of snow on the roofs and on the leaves of confused budding plants lightly fall through sepia skies. The otherworldly glow of the final throes of a dying sunlight lights up this sleepy town. In summer the air is crisp and nature revels in its expected garden state while in winter thick snow covers the hills with a hand of white as skiers fill its ski slopes gliding from where the air is icy and brittle and serenity flows calmly unnoticed to where mechanical lifts are busy getting people from one place to another, two separate worlds a couple of minutes apart.

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Along the Open Plains

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I trace the lay lines from mountain peak to shaded valley via open plains, lined poplar trees and scattered land, as blue skies and crimson sunset’s smile turns to laughter. In these wild open fields where the grass turns brown in spots, there are wild flowers and dozens of scattered pebbles and grass under our feet. Bare trees with bend trunks; a cool breeze washes my face, as suddenly there are no umbrella trees to relief me from the rays of the sun. At night across the sky the stars align and if you look close enough you can see the stellar installation of this world’s cosmos. Indeed Taanayel is a world apart, as it is left to nature’s own devices.

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The Middle Eastern Garden

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I hear leaves drinking rain;

I hear rich leaves on top

Giving the poor beneath

Drop after drop;

‘Tis a sweet noise to hear

These green leaves drinking near.

And when the Sun comes out,

After this Rain shall stop,

A wondrous Light will fill

Each dark, round drop;

I hope the Sun shines bright;

‘Twill be a lovely sight.

(The Rain by William Henry Davies)

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“Heyshlee Barbara”

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“Barbara the beautiful

Had praise of lute and pen:

Her hair was like a summer night

Dark and desired of men.

Her feet like birds from far away

That linger and light in doubt;

And her face was like a window

Where a man’s first love looked out.

Her sire was master of many slaves

A hard man of his hands;

They built a tower about her

In the desolate golden lands,

Sealed as the tyrants sealed their tombs,

Planned with an ancient plan,

And set two windows in the tower

Like the two eyes of a man…”

(The Ballad of St. Barbara by Gilbert Keith Chesterton)

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