Were it not for the group of palms in front of my lens, the peaks of Mt. Tam would shine in the glorious sunshine in this frame…. But as it is, when I saw this image as I waited for the red light to change at the intersection of Sir Francis Drake and Wolfe Grade in Kentfield, I was reminded of the palm at the end of the mind, of which Wallace Stevens wrote:
Of Mere Being
The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.
The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird’s fire-fangled feathers dangle down.