One had a lovely face,
And two or three had charm,
But charm and face were in vain
Because the mountain grass
Cannot but keep the form
Where the mountain hare has lain.
There was a time when I could barely read those lines without weeping from loss. Everyone has had their mountain hare. Everyone has seen its lingering impression - still fresh, still warm - and winced.
Those days are long gone now. Miraculously, the mountain grass grew back. I never thought it would.
How resilient we are, despite ourselves.
This is for you (you know who you are) with love from P.
Photograph by Rebecca Rijsdijk.
Poem is "Memory" by W.B. Yeats.
