Worriedman
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Worriedman’s Substack
I am a horticulturalist, a commercial greenhouse grower. I am surrounded by beautiful plants and flowers. I am also a horse owner who designs and builds horse-drawn vehicles. I lead a beautiful life and I like to share.
22 posts · theirs
Lately
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
Mown meadows skirt the standing wheat; I linger, for the hay is sweet, New-cut and curing in the sun. Like furrows, straight, the windrows run,
Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill, Streams laugh that erst were quiet, The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue And the woods run mad with riot.
The Dogs present - If Dogs Run Free - a Bob Dylan interpretive event
Silence and a deeper silence when the crickets hesitate
Leopard Skin Pill Box - Barncat does Dylan
The mist has left the greening plain,/ The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,/ The coquette rose awakes again/ Her lovely self adorning.
Come away, O human child!/ To the waters and the wild/ With a faery, hand in hand/ For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
What if you painted a picture of a tree, and the leaves began to rustle, and a bird cheerfully sang from its painted branches?
I am so tired of waiting, Aren’t you, For the world to become good /And beautiful and kind?
Always in unison, they are the rapt voice of silence, so singleminded I cannot tell if the sound is rich or thin,
Doctor, you say there are no haloes around the streetlights in Paris and what I see is an aberration caused by old age, an affliction.
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