Monday, August 24, 2015
i saw a raven,
midnight and blue,
drink his fill from the storm gutter,
while the mallards endlessly practiced
their avian geometry —
etching watery triangles through sunlit shallows
where the pond weeds watched, dressed
in their early fall colors.
the birds didn't sing
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
How can it be August already?
June and July raced by, filled with things both profound
and profoundly mundane, as usual.
Here's a recap:
A young woodpecker waited for his parents to bring him lunch.
(He seemed perfectly capable to me, but who am I to judge avian parenting styles?)
June garden discovery.
(The cat left it alone - I can't say the same for the opossum that we spied the next night.)
Coneflowers bloomed ...
... and wilted in August's heat.
And between the lines, life happened.
Doesn't it always?