Musings on Sunday After Christmas

Hide in a shelter of trees in the woods and listen to avian conversations, sweet songs and chatter

Serenades in chants of love songs, birds flirting, time phrases

Simultaneous displays of affection

When evening comes, lie down on the meadow to ease you muscle aches and back discomfort

Watch the stars appear ten by ten until you can’t count them anymore

Your brain nudges the hammock of neural synapses connecting lifelines of attention and comfort

The fragrance of grass, beauty of flower garlands open your senses to a new chemistry

The body is intelligent in an unknown way and know what to subtract and add in wholesome well being before you yourself knows what’s happening.

Open space embrace with soothing air and mountain views like a sanctuary as if nature is speaking to you. And understand emotionally what the birds are singing. The secret is not what you imagine but what you feel.

You know you will need tremendous courage to follow your own rules.

Some songs and calls are fading

The birds are facing extinction

Encroachment in their habitats or human neglect

The birds chant offers a sense of place and time and peace

We are losing the outdoors richness when our winged friends leave or die.

Don’t abandon the birds, they are helpless pretty creatures and friends

If you don’t answer your questions you have to find one who can. Don’t presume you are the first one to ask.

WORDLESS THURSDAY

A Day in the Life of

Though I will miss my lunch

I am not hungry to eat yet

I am exuberantly eager to walk to the river

I don’t want to confess I want to see her again 

A woman who walks with a yellow parasol

I do not feel embarrassed I do not speak her language

I feel sad for not learning the language when I was young.

Today is a different day

Everyone wishes “a somewhere to be”

The day when the lockdown begins

The day that nobody wants.

I want focus my attention to the pathway

Lined by sycamore, birch, maple and other trees I can not name

I am still astonished by soft touches of leaves falling on my head

And hearing crackling sound of leaves that I walk on 

A day of circumstances

One blue heron and 4 egrets gathered on the riverbank

All looking at the river

Two sea otters playing diverts also my attention 

Their heads bobbing up and under the water surface

I change my attention to the birds

They also sense my new interest

I experience the birds play of teasing

Two egrets fly away chasing each other.

Then comes a paddle boarder in the river

He bends down pulling back his paddle

Propelling himself down the river

Stands up, bends and paddles on the left

Propels himself forward again

Downstream he will turn around before he is swallowed by the sea

Paddles back to where he starts his day

Robust and happy for his accomplishment

The day may not be of bewilderment

But it is a day of sun but without rain

I’m happy to take photographs and write a poem

About how we live in a worried world

A reality we can change with our untapped power.

note: The book I just finished reading: Dirt by William Buford. Entertaining, funny, French way of cooking. Wonderful.

My Saturday Walk to the River

The Birds

Musing over a cup of coffee

Have you seen a cat weeping?

Or a thirsty squirrel?

A pause, practice deep involvement

From a splendid height

A kestrel watches

Graceful speed, finesse.

Lots of letters to answer

Diminish the clutter

Walk softly on the circled path

You live, find meaning

Practice virtues

Not incomprehensible

Even if you live in Istanbul or Damascus

Or in time of pandemic

Each day can be of gratitude.

Art does not explain

You experience beauty or riddle 

Or something significant.

The View from a Window

The bougainvillea greets me abundantly 

like when I enter our kitchen 

scent of fish stew on simmer 

fills my senses

The fountain attracts attention

of squirrels carrying acorns 

hiding in our neighbor’s redwood tree . 

Will they be thirsty?

One lone umbrella and a table  

near a bed of roses 

like a fly fisherman standing alone 

in a  mountain stream

A white a statue sits on the wooden fence. 

It moves, has wings. It’s an egret.

I hear  hurried steps on the stairs and a voice.

Kaylee? Is that you?

It’s June. Everyone

is coming home.

My Monday and Tuesday Walk

The sky is blue. The air quality is good. The white egret is back and stays with the fishermen.

The flowers are blooming. I have my shadow selfie.

The walk is invigorating. It beats the pandemic isolation.

Promenade

It’s Friday and a very warm day. At the moment it’s 100 F degrees. I went to our county library to pick up a book this morning when it was only 85 degrees. 

Afterwards I went to the promenade along the riverfront. On my return walk I passed through the hotel corridor leading to the 2 restaurants in the hotel complex.

I took a few photos of fresh and dried hydrangeas and few other things.

Bye

I look up the sky and predict how my day will be

Glorious if blue, deluge if black

If the monarch butterflies are migrating

The sky may be dark

Or white with all the beautiful cloud formations

I can get my camera and take photos

And make an album

I learn that I have to know more than the sky color to survive

Life is tough and dangerous and fun

Or I may end up in Hollywood

And become rich or an addict

Preferably I should learn how to negotiate a roundabout

It could mean life or death

Well I have to go

My partner is waiting

We have to go to the forest to pick mushrooms

Bye.