Explore "High Noon" by Dallas Lore Sharp on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
LAZILY sailing clouds, and between them, far away, the illimitable blue! And how blue! how cool! how far away! Never does the sky seem of so real azure, so fresh and new, but so mysteriously distant, as upon such a July day as this; and never does the earth seem so warm and near. I lie outstretched upon it as close as I ever lay upon my mother's breast. I feel the crisp moss beneath me, the creeping of the beetle under my shoulder, the heat of the gray stone against my side. I throw out my hands, push my fingers into the hot soil and feel them take root. Mother earth! The clouds sail on; the bending blue recedes; and-heaven? It matters not. Here are my brothers,-the beetle, the moss, the gray stone; and here I lie in the arms of the mother who bore me.
I have questions to ask-to-morrow; dreams to dream-to-morrow; things to do-to-morrow. To-day I am free in the fields; to-day I am brother to the beetle and the stone; I am neighbor to this ancient white oak in whose shade I lie; I am child to the earth. It is enough to be to-day.