tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6540771071400993487.post5999990643014266534..comments2024-03-27T07:14:36.800-04:00Comments on <b>Dawn Potter</b>: Dawn Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07500960150846895633noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6540771071400993487.post-46820542981306556372014-07-08T10:54:20.421-04:002014-07-08T10:54:20.421-04:00A comment from my friend David, who claims not to ...A comment from my friend David, who claims not to be a poet. You decide.<br /><br />"You achieved Laotzu. Completely. Loved, loved your description of the grandmother on the bench. And this morning’s, including on Hogg. (Robertson Davies thought highly of Confessions.)<br /> <br />"Here another gates of morning, the sun gold for those few minutes on that lovely tree. Driving in, Vaughan Williams’ The Lark Ascending, all that dark lushness; the high violin, dying with a dying fall; near the end the three deep notes repeated three times, at their heart the double bass. The night the Winnipeg Symphony played it, the violinist in a lincoln green gown, the dark stage, her solitary in the spotlight. <br /> <br />"And high up, two planes, different altitudes, going opposite directions in a pale blue sky. The cleanness of their divergent vectors. Surely part of why some people love math.<br /> <br />"Off to swell the usual scenes."<br />Dawn Potterhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07500960150846895633noreply@blogger.com