I take coffee and brioche out to a table under the
trees in the Rodin Sculpture Garden on campus, for breakfast in the company of
caryatids and Orpheus with his lyre and grief, and the lofty Spirit of Eternal Repose off on his high column, who always intrigues me so—poised
as he is at the very moment of toppling, all but unbalanced, forever at the
brink of losing that precarious repose, the graceful leaning balance on one
foot.
I didn’t feel any too
reposeful myself, hearing legions of caterpillars chewing in the oak trees
overhead. Spring has sprung!
image:
Christie B. Cochrell, Rodin’s Spirit of Eternal Repose
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