For those of you who have had the pluck to hang in as I have worked my way from right to left, this is the last post. I am determined to finish her tomorrow and post on the website itself as soon as the sheen dies down a touch.
Today the title literally surfaced in front of me in the form of an ancient memory. Whitman's poem, "Leaves of Grass," begins with "Into the cradle endlessly rocking" and goes on to celebrate the bittersweet issues of love and life by means of its lush natural imagery; like Whitman (and Emerson), Jon and I were submerged in the glory of sensuous creation. I am so grateful for these transcendent experiences.
Today the title literally surfaced in front of me in the form of an ancient memory. Whitman's poem, "Leaves of Grass," begins with "Into the cradle endlessly rocking" and goes on to celebrate the bittersweet issues of love and life by means of its lush natural imagery; like Whitman (and Emerson), Jon and I were submerged in the glory of sensuous creation. I am so grateful for these transcendent experiences.
"Into the Cradle Endlessly Rocking" oil 30 x 40
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