I have curled mid the boles of the ash wood,Ezra Pound. Personae.
I have hidden my face where the oak
Spread his leaves over me, and the yoke
Of the old ways of men have I cast aside.
After a cold and rainy May, June hat brought unusual hot days, days during which the people spread across the recreational areas as nature and city parks, woodlands, beaches, lakes and rivers, leaving behind them a trail of plastic bags, beer cans and masks. Are we facing a new Roaring Twenties period with dramatic social and political changes?.
In any case, I’m too old – and for this reason a little bit melancholy and very pessimistic about the future -, to participate in that cheerfulness.
However, I used a couple of nice days to hide my face where the oaks (or beech trees), spread their leaves over me.