Red Bat Photography
Folksonomy > sunset
October 8th, 2011

This post is Part 3 of a 3-part series. Read Part 1Read Part 2 – Read Part 3

Since these photos are of events taking place at a winery, I felt it was important to give you some love poetry about wine. I’d forgotten about this poem until I ran across it today. It was written by the amazing Billy Collins for his wife.

Please note the appearance in this post of yet another stellar bouquet toss photo by Patrick. How does he do it?

LITANY

Billy Collins

You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine…
-Jacques Crickillon

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry, I’m not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and–somehow–the wine.

February 19th, 2011

This post is Part 3 of a 3-part series. Read Part 1Read Part 2 – Read Part 3

For the rest of the evening, there was much rejoicing, and the children did eat chicken and throw each other upon the ground, and the adults did raise the bubbly glass to true love, and all of the people did feast upon numerous cakes. And the photographers, they did circulate and perch and stalk as in days of old, and the female photographer did leave the gathering several times to explore the area.

And lo, she found the place to be agreeable of aspect, especially in the darkness when the stars came out, and she made plans to return later all by herself for a REAL vacation. So it was decided, and so, weeks later, it was done. And you can totally see the photos as soon as I get around to them.

Oh, and here is the poem Brooke and Josh read to each other during their ceremony:

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

“[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]” by e.e. cummings