358
A man needs an evening walk with his reflections. Where the world returns to him his thoughts, refined and cleansed.
Danny James
Tag: evening
August 20, 2014
321
It has been a strangely pleasant Winter this year with very little of the usual Polar qualities experienced as in earlier Seasons. As though not content with her reputation for cold has Nature adopted a more affable temperament. And from a light rail bound for Newcastle, enjoying the features of an afternoon entify into evening, and a city incrementally disappear under backcountry, I caught the pierce of a mans reflection illuminated in the window by carriage lights against a background night. Had he a look of a course wondering. A tournament was occurring behind the eyes, to which he committed his durance. He was avoiding people, and grew uncomfortable as they near for it perturbed his wrestle for balance though there seemed no malice in his attitude, as much as he liked the distance so as to maintain for them a strained compassion, while he was rather struggling with his own awkwardness, and working hard to bury an habitual belligerence. I too should like to be like that Winter that can change myself to the contrast of what has of my Nature become. How some would be perfectly what they seem and alone, rather than revealed and loved.
January 29, 2014
188: Good morning, Sunshine
I flatter myself that she combs the Earth each night by candlelight until I am found
Or rising first reserves her glow until I’m slipped of my slumber sound.
But she feigns a gladdened expression looking lastly where I have always waited
I am the one dismantled, my overlooked hopes with thee over the hills faded.
Bondi, 2013
December 4, 2013
116: The wood, the hills, the valley
Awake at no hour atypical, but of an acute proceedings in effect I became increasingly aware. Sensitivities at fresh mornings issue, seemed quickened above a common reflex. A quiescent surcharge had overnight mingled the blood, and bade some stirring semblance of rapture, begin its corrective undulations surge deep and wide the full cellular tapestry in floods of perfect beatitude.
I knew at once the cause of the energies; whence the outflow poured and to what lofty secret-less realm would the arcane hum trace, blaring agonised and fine. I lifted my profane look to those all-seeing high keepers of the woodland sierras, standing ominous and intended, whose crowns brush sky and hands hold up, inviting me to share the divinest of airs among them in their very domain.
I went to the mountains and met there, such health preserving relations, and pleasing qualities gathered as arouse and dignify my natural state. Stayed I there until, I’d determined going, it was too dark and hazardous to do so, and when that tension strayed, I was soon content amid the fell of evenings wild.
I shall think that I will never in my life live down the pitch of rare and splendid fortune, that sits within this blithely slice of Earth; that stands every fibre of my nature at the mere allusion, attentive and rampant, – straining to express or abandon.
October 2, 2013
90
My housemate returned last evening from a wandering abroad, whose soothed expression of renewed prosperity has recalled my own souls fondness and suitability for the trekking life that has survived the nights dilution. Thus I am riding a gentler, more aerial tone of humour this morning that threatens to lift me further into elations giddying atmosphere, and if I am not cautious to bethink the lead of my cares and chores, I may very well happily drift with its whim, forever up and clear of any.
Patagonia in the Summer, and the blood is stirring.
July 14, 2013
61
At last, I have reached that age the elderly folk often would depict, where I fain envy no more than simple pleasantries, such as a book and a cup of tea, to see out my evenings. If it be, as indicated it would, within my refined want and most essential influence to improve the moment, a fine and temperate wood-fire to warm the travelled spirit into bliss is tours end.
