Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.
— from “Calmly We Walk through This April’s Day,” by Delmore Schwartz
“Spring.” Oil on panel.
I toured Fair View Cemetery by my friend’s house in northwest Roanoke just around twilight, which made for a couple of interesting shots. The cemetery occupies a sweeping, broad hill. It was established in 1890 and actually includes the grave of Confederate States of America Congressman (Waller Redd Staples).
Oil on wood.