It was a busy day of getting water restarted, cleaning things up, getting resettled. Not helpful that my head-cold, seemingly on the mend, reasserted itself. Of course, I could attribute that to the airplane – there’s a strong correlation in my experience between head-cold symptoms and airplane travel.
Well anyway here I am. I didn’t take a picture of a tree, exactly. Here is Sunnahae at dawn – it has trees.
[daily log: walking, 3km]
Day: December 6, 2019
Caveat: Poem #1223 “An astanzaic interlude”
Kiamon's soul was abandoned, adrift. She had decided on change, more controlled, Reining in aimless and angry desires. Now she just stood, and surrounded by trees, Body at rest, both contained and enclosed, Mind sought to grasp the unreachable sky. Movement, just then, made her glance at that sky. Eagles sketched circles, with wingtips adrift. One of them turned, and then dove, so controlled, Swooping down. Kiamon felt its desires. Tilting, the bird made a feint toward some trees, Darkness obscured what might be there, enclosed. Gripping the hem of her coat that enclosed Pockets of fugitive warmness, the sky Shared bits of nothing, like signs set adrift. Yes. Apophenical dreams, uncontrolled. Truth becomes burdened by lazy desires. Greenery elevates angels as trees. Kiamon thought on those infinite trees. Naked and stark, their wide branches enclosed Negative fragments of daydreaming sky. Mist slanted groundward. Some clouds were adrift. Water met heaven: embracing, controlled, Tossing out wishes, suggesting desires. Self-analytically, she then considered desires. How did they differ from yearnings of trees? Down in the earth, their bold roots are enclosed. Raised up above, their arms hug the sky. So many seedlings they send out, adrift, Thusly ensuring the future's controlled. What is a heart if it can't be controlled? What is the use of unending desires? Why? she sighed, shrugging, sad. Let's be like trees. They're self-assured, with their feelings enclosed. Pausing, she gazed at the gray-visaged sky. Birds volunteered for the wind, souls adrift. Still, all adrift, she controlled her desires. Trees clothed the slopes, all enclosed by the sky.
– this is a sestina in dactylic tetrameter; I think sestinas are difficult to make non-monotonous, because of their rigid repitition of words. They are just plain difficult, too – especially with a meter. I made this one killing time waiting for the ferry yesterday.