be kind creation
smile on your birding friend
glimpse the miracle
Snowy Owl. Plum Island MA 1/25/2020. Atlantic Ocean.
I hesitated to post my photos of my snowy owl trip since the owl photos are a bit blurry. But hell people, it is a Snowy Owl! And my first encounter. But certainly not the last.
This bird is down right stunning, majestic, gorgeous, and oh so patient. I watched the wind ruffling her feathers, her ever alert, keen sense of hearing, and her head turning to see the four corners of the tundrous field for close to an hour. She flew but never far away. She glided as a seaplane hovering the waters.
My heart skipped beats as I encountered this regal bird. I will talk of this for years to come. I thank you for being part of this monumental day. I left the island with a skip in my step. And hope.
Field notes to those wanting to take part in life’s sacred dance. Please remember to tread lightly. Earth’s preciousness is a gift we should treasure and never take for granted.
of gray doves -gone.
Hope circles, in the sky
sharp green blades
that lie low
in soil, kneaded
with nimble thoughts
to sprout joy.
It is not spring in Massachusetts. It is spring in Jeanne’s attic, where all such things are stored.
I had a conversation with myself this morning. I rambled on and on about what I would do with my day time. I finally decided to sit down at my desk and write. Write out a long, drawn out rehearsal of time passing.
When I looked up from the lonely computer screen, you were no longer sitting in the comfortable chair across from me. You had started the car engine. The revving noise, a distant dream. You, a train destined to an orbiting sky full of scenes. The very scenes I had written down in stars.
Of nonstop writing
I was swallowed.
Of staring out windows
I once wallowed.
Imagining animal talk
and shadow dances.
in dark spaces
set to music.
to match the rhythm
rolling in ink.
I am a landscape
to dwell in flowing color
the fog mirrored drama.
Sun lighted shadow
brightens thickest forest glen
I notice daily, Andrew, at The Lonely Author blog is missing from this community of writers. For quite a while now.
Please join me in sending healing vibes… Hope his heart ache (in many ways) finds healing soon.
Miss your words and friendship.
Be well soon Andrew,
The Word Press Community ✍🏼
Where do I start this morning? I need to go away… I cannot read another word. I am tired of humanity.
We have beaten down everything around us except ourselves. I love this Mark Twain quote which came through a social media feed.
Right?! You!? Let us all take a little blame for the world’s common craziness! We all play a part in this satirical melodrama.
And in the same breath, I must say enough of the media flogging us. What good are beaten-up people? We can do some introspection, do our part to heal our neighborhoods and homes. We can be reasonable people and still have a healthy ego.
Not all of us are selfless enough to abandon our lives. But we should stop on occasion and take inventory on how we conduct ourselves daily.
Take small steps. Then take some more. Good Gravy is never rushed. But eventually, with constant stirring, we can enjoy our mashed potatoes. And share them with humanity.
and all the noise
a pensive peace; a soft glow
rabid dust bunnies, romp
cause this cough
at everything… lingering
belching blows to my soul
scarred and scratched
by (who’s?) disregard.
Leaden footed winter.
A pieced poverty of color
the house close-mouthed.
a fence frosted, still erect.
Leaden footprints of anticipation,
the tulips and daffodils quilled.
(I found a black and white print of “The Poet’s House” in a second-hand book. Artist unknown. I added seasonal color. This is winter.)
I sat with hunger and fed the ache. I sat with tears and wiped the face. I sat with fear and found a voice. I sat with you and smiled.
I sat with doubt and made a plan. I sat with joy and raised my hands. I sat with dread and found a tree. I sat with you upon my knees.