for old times sake

I could not help but be happy to see you, it has been so long...

Who doesn't love
roses, and who
doesn't love the lilies
of the black ponds

floating like flocks
of tiny swans,
and of course the flaming
trumpet vine

where the hummingbird comes
like a small green angel, to soak
his dark tongue
in happiness--

and who doesn't want
to live with the brisk
motor of his heart
singing

like a Schubrt,
and his eyes
working and working like those days of rapture,
by van Gogh, in Arles?

Look! for most of the world
is waiting
or remembering --
most of the world is time...

from Hummingbird Pauses at the Trumpet Vine
by Mary Oliver

Happy Thanksgiving, may you have a great abudance in your life.

They tell me you have beak envy

Maybe Ravens mourn their dead.. read it for yourself here.

Griffon vultures are doing better, as long as they stay away from windfarms. Read about it here

Just so you know, I am tired of jumping through hoops. You were the one who walked away...

Rook

In its task. I will keep still, my eye
On your eye, waiting for you to look away.
How to stay along the edge,

Let the ungraceful fasten, perhaps
Become love, a place where it might begin;
How to make of each other a garment, a way

To remain, one holding the other up
Against the blue, the unmistakable trees.

Sophie Cabot Black from Here in the Open

sad day for this vulture

Corby's hiding out

I have neglected you, I am sorry. Lately I have been without inspiration. I have been trying to find it but I feel rather quiet. All that energy and passion has seemed to be subdued. Without Apollo the flower fades, turns pale, receeds and waits for the promise of spring. As I wait and hope that Apollo will ride again across the sky.