Alae

2012-02-04T17:44:00.001-08:00

How shall I keep my soul
from touching yours? How shall
I lift it over you toward other things?
Ah, I would like to lodge it
in the dark with some lost thing
on some foreign silent place
that doesn't tremble, when your depths stir.
Yet everything that touches you and me
takes us together like a bow's stroke
that from two strings draws one voice.
Across what instrument are we stretched taut?
And what player holds us in his hand?
O sweet song.
Rainer Maria Rilke (1875–1926) trans. Edward Snow

2012-01-26T18:12:00.000-08:00

I am a memory, that maybe once he tried to say something to me and I could not hear him. That the direction of my life could spin on a chance. How great the loss? I still remember everything and I miss him. It was the best and worst time, but I was living so aware. How is that years have passed and I still can recall the smallest little memories. It was a great love that never was.

2011-10-26T18:14:00.001-07:00

Well I went walking in the woods Sunday
Dragged my feet through the undergrowth
Stumbling upon a bird instead
Singing songs sweet of hope and…

So I went back there the very next day
Found no trace of the sweet song
Dragged my feet just the very same way
But no melody rang home
No birds to sing
No bird

Waiting there to blessed my roam
No melody
No melody to save
Ringing out with sacred tones
No melody
No melody to sing

No bird to sing
Why won’t those birds begin?
To sing…

Royal Wood

2011-09-28T17:59:00.000-07:00

I am thinking about changing. Maybe I am not in fact innovative enough to be a painter. I find myself reinventing the wheel and I am even boring myself. I live in artistic isolation now. My old friends have scattered now that they cannot get anything from me. Emails go unanswered, calls do not come in, there is no communication. This happens and I just do not bother to pursue. More to the point though is my desire to quit. I find it all rather not fulfilling lately. To what ends do I doggedly work at night after working all day? To stand in a gallery and have people say it is nice, then pack up and end the conversation? Perhaps my time would be better spent elsewhere. The thing I miss most lately is the activity of my old friends minds. I am so bored of all this. The repetition of my days is dulling to my spirit. It makes less of me and I have not figured out how to break free of it, or if I ever will. After all I have accomplished, I am starting to think I am in fact a failure. Apparently none of that counts. I guess I am demotivated, demoralized, and generally tired of fighting the grind. Part of me is just plain angry, where did these people go? The pretenders! They were not true at all! People just do not ever seem to understand and I grow weary from the effort of it. So before my biggest show, which I am trying to make myself care about, I want to give up. This will be my last show. I will resign myself to being ordinary and finding some other path. Perhaps it was not meant to be at all anyway. I have to work so hard to produce the mediocre and really there is no genius in continuing that. I guess it is finally having the wisdom to see that one has to do it out of love for it, or some blind talent that drives you and lately I have lost my love and well my genius is questionable. I am not finding the poetry of existence, I am just walking day to day and getting by. What is there to paint in that?

2011-09-02T15:35:00.001-07:00

I wonder if it could have been different somehow? Then I sit back and reflect on what I have before me, the distance I have yet to go and I know I do not regret. I am not who I was and gratefully so, I have faced some sour days. I made it, here I am! All I thought I needed, I lost and thinking I could not recover, I managed to. Do I still love there, in that place, yes and always. I look and see what is real, not what I imagine to be. Perhaps he hates me and will never return to me, but all that I learned I carry. All that he taught me, I carry in love. That is all, no need for melancholy, or desire, or lack of peace. Only the beauty of the gifts I was given and how they carry me still. Even he, cannot take that peace away.

i will remember you

2011-07-30T07:56:00.000-07:00

http://youtu.be/UKjdkdRaj0A

2011-05-22T18:33:00.001-07:00

If I thought he missed me, I might care. He doesn't and the sky did not fall. I go on and on endless and unafraid. He never looked for me, nor did he write and after a time I started to get it. I am not sad about it at all, but rather feel free. It was a gift to see all that I have with such clarity that I have not had before. I was blinded by other dreams. When I should have seen what he wanted, which was not me.

2011-04-05T17:59:00.001-07:00

Hello, hello.. busy on this side of the fence. sorry my friends, life happens.

2011-03-26T17:00:00.000-07:00

2011-03-26T16:50:00.000-07:00

You will find the right words
just you wait and see
they'll be falling from the rooftops
on a blossom covered breeze
and the song you need to hear
will be singing through the trees
are you listening?
don't you see?

you are on the right path
you will realize
that the tears will always leave you
with a brighter pair of eyes
and the pain you've been fighting
is an angel in disguise
it is love and love,
love is wise

There's still time to notice
still time to believe
that a door will at last open
where darkness used to be
and the paradise you long for
is underneath your feet
what are you running for?
where've you been?

throw your heart into the ocean
throw your heart into the sea
you will find all the right words
will come out naturally.

Right Words by Sarah Slean

2011-03-14T19:50:00.000-07:00

I would go just to see you, but I cannot go. Nothing makes sense anymore but I guess that is ok.

A glimpse

2011-03-09T19:27:00.000-08:00

Just for a moment I fell back in time. It is still a funny little rush.

2011-03-05T19:23:00.000-08:00

XLIV

You will know that I do and do not love you
just as life is of two minds,
a word is one wing of silence,
and fire is half made of ice.

I love you just so I can begin to love you,
to begin anew at the infinite
and to be able never to stop loving you:
For these reasons, I do not love you yet.

I do and do not love you as if I held
in my hands the keys to every happiness
and an uncertain, unhappy fate.

My love has two lifetimes to love you.
That's how I can love you when I don't,
and still love you when I do.

Pablo Neruda

2011-02-11T14:47:00.000-08:00

2011-02-11T14:44:00.000-08:00

Living, we cover vast territories; imagine your life drawn on a map--
a scribble on the town where you grew up,
each bus trip traced between school and home,
or a clean line across the sea to a place you flew once.
Think of the time and things we accumulate,
all the while growing more conscious of losing and leaving.
Aging, our bodies collect wrinkles and scars
for each place the world would not give under our weight.
Our thoughts get laced with strange aches,
sweet as the final chord that hangs in a guitar's blond torso.

Think how a particular ridge of hills from a summer of your childhood grows
in significance, or one hour of light--
late afternoon, say,
when thick sun flings the shadow of Virginia creeper vines
across the wall of a tiny, white room
where a girl makes love for the first time.
Its leaves tremble like small hands against the screen
while she weeps in the arms of her bewildered lover.
She's too young to see that as we gather losses,
we may also grow in love; as in passion,
the body shudders and clutches what it must release.

Julia Spicher Kasdorf from First Gestures

2011-02-10T15:57:00.000-08:00

2011-02-10T15:37:00.000-08:00

Paean

Apollo the day is almost done
And I have not yet forgotten you.
The fire of daylight shadow’s spread
We are falling to earth like the light
In this last concourse
The flicker on our edges of memory
Where once there was morning
The singer of full day hushes
To greet me once again
I look to you
Travel the circuit of your eye
I was waiting for the darkness
Our inevitable conclusion refrains
The long day passes then stalls
Throwing our colors before us
Unquenched still burning
Even as this day fades

By the Corbyhawk herself.

Very pleasantly surprised

2011-02-09T19:58:00.000-08:00

2011-02-07T09:44:00.000-08:00

wow today I am in a really crappy mood, things are changing and I am kind of sick of what I am doing.... stuck in a rut so to speak and no way to snap out of it. Thought I would share here, feeling bad bad bad, mostly out of place. I have had some smacks to the ego that have left me not really able to rally. It was a clear direction in work and now it is not. Murky and full of fears, and feelings of general inadequacy. If I could get over the inadequacy I might be able to get somewhere. Need that confidence, the kind that changes the world. Mouse mouse.

2011-02-04T17:46:00.000-08:00

The singer sang the final note true
I used to love him
I guess I still do

Marina to paradise

2011-01-07T12:39:00.000-08:00

2011-01-07T12:36:00.000-08:00

By the rational standards of the programmed life we have been living, our purchase of the island made no sense whatsoever; indeed, our choice was a more spontaneous response than a carefully considered resonable act. Yet it held forth the promise that, at least for two weeks in every year, we would find ourselves at home.

John Keats Of Time and an Island

treading water

2010-12-18T17:14:00.001-08:00

2010-11-29T19:07:00.000-08:00

Same old halls
same old floors
same old lights
same old chairs
same old rooms
same old everything
new me

2010-10-27T17:14:00.000-07:00

2010-10-27T17:13:00.000-07:00

"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

-from The Journey by Mary Oliver

Think of me

2010-09-25T19:34:00.000-07:00

Think of me
think of me fondly,
when we've said goodbye
remember me every so often
promise me you'll try
on that day - that not so distant day
when you are far away and free
If you ever find a moment
spare a thought for me

and though it's clear
Though it was always clear
that this was never meant to be
If you happen to remember
stop and think of me

Think of me think of me waking
silent and resigned
imagine me
trying too hard to put you from my mind
think of me please say you'll think of me
whatever else you choose to do
There never will be a day
when I don't think of you

Andrew Loyd Webber Think Of Me

What's the story

2010-09-24T18:23:00.001-07:00

2010-09-24T18:21:00.000-07:00

I realize that the dawn
when we'll meet again
will never break,
so I give it up,
little by little, this love.
But something in me laughs
as I say this,
someone
shaking his head and chuckling
softly, Hardly, hardly
--Rumi a la coleman barks...

2010-08-09T16:29:00.000-07:00

The birds are singing in your eyes today
Sweet flowers blossom in your smile
The wind and sun are in the words you say
Where might your lonesome lover be?

Birds maybe singing in my eyes this day
Sweet flowers blossom when I smile
But my soul is stormy and my heart blows wild
My sweetheart rides a ship on the sea
Though my soul is stormy and my heart blows wild
Where might my lonesome lover be?

By: Billy Bragg and Woodie Guthrie

2010-08-05T18:44:00.000-07:00

2010-08-05T18:42:00.000-07:00

To yield, I have learned, is to come back again.

Taoist Proverb

2010-07-16T19:07:00.000-07:00

2010-07-12T18:49:00.001-07:00

2010-07-12T18:36:00.000-07:00

Love comes hungry to anyone's hand.
I found the newborn sparrow next to
the tumbled nest on the grass. Bravely

opening its beak. Cats circled, squirrels.
I tried to set the nest right but the wild
birds had fled. The knot of pinfeathers

sat in my hand and spoke. Just because
I've raised it by touch, doesn't mean it
follows. All day it pecks at the tin image of

a faceless bird. It refuses to fly,
though I've opened the door. What
sends us to each other? He and I

had a blue landcape, a village street,
some poems, bread on a plate. Love
was a camera in a doorway, love was

a script, a tin bird. Love was faceless,
even when we'd memorized each other's
lines. Love was hungry, love was faceless,

the sparrow sings, famished, in my hand.

Love Song -Carol Muske-Dukes

2010-07-10T19:04:00.001-07:00

2010-07-10T19:03:00.000-07:00

A thousand miles apart, yet the same moon shines over us all.

-Su Dongpo

Fire Lily

2010-07-07T15:38:00.000-07:00

2010-07-07T15:36:00.000-07:00

Though a living cannot be made at art, art makes life worth living. It makes starving, living. It makes worry, it makes trouble, it makes a life that would be barren of everything-living. It brings life to life.

John Sloan

Missed you

2010-06-05T18:19:00.001-07:00

Oil Spill

2010-06-04T13:13:00.000-07:00

Ok, this oil spill is horrible and will have lasting effects on the future of our world environment. It is a global tragedy and action should be taken to remedy the problem. Why would we create technology that has no fix when it breaks? Stupid. I borrowed this photo from the birdchick blog which has a great post on the spill, check it out here

photo taken by Charlie Riedel on the East Grand Terre Island in Louisiana

2010-06-01T10:08:00.000-07:00

2010-06-01T10:02:00.000-07:00

Last night I dreamt of him, sitting next to me. After all this time he was there and he wanted me close, tapping my foot with his during some random meeting, sitting near me. I could see everything so clearly as if no time had passed. For a moment I felt alive again.

Face off

2010-05-03T16:03:00.001-07:00

2010-05-03T15:55:00.000-07:00

All winter
the blue heron
slept among the horses.
I do not know
the custom of herons,
do not know
if the solitary habit
is their way.
or if he listened for
some missing one--
not knowing even
that was what he did--
in the blowing
sounds in the dark.
I know that hope is the hardest
love we carry.
He slept
with his long neck
folded, like a letter
put away.

Jane Hirschfield Hope and Love

A little flower for a little day

2010-04-29T17:53:00.000-07:00

2010-04-24T16:29:00.000-07:00

You are wrong to think I do not miss you.

2010-04-22T18:34:00.000-07:00

2010-04-22T18:30:00.000-07:00

Still, citizen sparrow, this vulture which you call
Unnatural, let him lumber again to air
Over the rotten office, let him bear
The carrion ballast up, and at the tall

Tip of the sky lie cruising. Then you'll see
That no more beautiful bird is in heaven's height
No wider more placid wings, no watchfuller flight;
He shoulders nature there, the frightfully free,

-From Still, Citizen Sparrow by Richard Wilbur

Corby

2010-04-15T18:04:00.001-07:00

2010-04-15T17:59:00.000-07:00

Watching a couple of crows
playing around in the woods, swooping
in low after each other, I wonder
if they ever slam into the trees.

...but rarely does a crow
hit a tree, though other, clumsier birds
bang into them all the time, and we say
these birds have not adapted well

to the forest environment.
Frequently stunned, they become
easy prey for the wily fox,
who's learned how to listen

for that snapping of branches
and collapsing of wings,
who knows where to go
and what to do when he gets there.

From The Questions Poems Ask by Lawrence Raab

Vulture time

2010-04-14T16:57:00.001-07:00

2010-04-14T16:34:00.000-07:00

The person with no integrity, who maliciously undermined me and did whatever possible to make me look bad-got the job. The job that I worked very hard for, gave all my heart to in order to do the best job possible for my students. I want to scream and call her bad names, I want to call her and tell her off. I want to tell them all how insane it is that this person, who wouldn't show up, did no work and said some of the nastiest things to me now happily walks the halls where I should be. I am angry about it but have to be nice and therefore have no real venue in which to vent my complete and utter frustration. Now I have no real chances of getting that dream job I wanted, other than clawing my way up the ladder. Guess what? F-that, I am done and give up. I will stay where I am and enjoy what I have instead of trying to turn into a person like that. They can keep her and her ugliness, good luck with that. Not to mention now they are all avoiding me. I am sure she spread lies about me and they believed her. F-ing idiots, you trusted her? Really? After all this time? Are you kidding me? Seriously that makes me really rather sad and discouraged. Heartbreaking it was a dream I had.

Horned Grebes in the mall pond

2010-04-11T17:11:00.001-07:00

spring

2010-04-10T19:49:00.001-07:00

2010-04-06T16:04:00.000-07:00

Yes I miss him, sure I do. I would not have felt so much to be able to turn it off and walk so easily away. It was all wrapped up in my work and growth, so much more. How could you think I would be the callous one and just walk away. Of course I had to protect myself and really there is an innocence to it, you are my friend. I am surrounded by hours of work but none of it is reaching me today, none of it. It does not tell that story, the one you so abruptly ended with non-response after all those years. I was good and so were you. I am insulted that you exited so quickly and never responded. What did I do to deserve that cruelty? I am not dead, I am building a life over here, why should I not have what you have? A woman painter, everyone thinks that will end when you try to build a life, but painting is that life. Mostly men say that,but I am sick of it really. Sick of having that fear, no it is not over or ending. It continues and grows, changes away from you. He looked at me with such distain this a-hole of a guy I work with, like now he cannot posess because I am full and fertile and wonderful. I am happier without the longing because it is more sensible and I am tired of it. Yet I do miss him terribly and would love to spend the time catching up, laughing with him again and being there to admire him as I do. I rather enjoyed making him happy as he deserves and loving him as if he were a part of my own family. I miss that, sometimes rather terribly.

2010-03-30T18:17:00.000-07:00

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purseto buy me,
and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everythingas a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonderi
f I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

Mary Oliver -When Death Comes
-Goodbye my sweet dear Great Aunt

Face time

2010-03-21T17:16:00.000-07:00

2010-03-12T15:19:00.000-08:00

The world is changing and I am comfortable with it. Health comes and goes which is frustrating and does not allow me to do as much as I usually do, but I know it will end soon and I will be back to normal. I am looking forward to the new time, it is good there. I remember that time when I was so free with longing and when everything was ahead of me. Now it is a new life and I think I chose the right direction. My heart will always be open to him, that I cannot help but it is tempered with more wisdom. I am glad of the experience of it, the thrill and wonder. The world awaits and I slide my hand into his, loyal, caring always there when I need him and step forward gloriously.

Flanked

2010-02-24T14:51:00.001-08:00

2010-02-24T14:42:00.000-08:00

I have nothing for you
Don't we all expect someone there
in the silence?
get back to me,
call me later
see you then.
I don't wait in shadows
my path is clear
I wade
walk
run
fly
to the light
call me if you get there.

-Corby

2010-02-16T16:55:00.000-08:00

2010-02-16T16:52:00.000-08:00

My love, birds are just birds
they are not carrying a message of meaning
The days come and I lift my head
starting again and again.
All my heroes have left
in the endless drone of February
I want to drive by
keep going to see where I will end up,
but I make the turn
and leave the possibility out there.
Those dreams seem like someone else's now
as I feel the weight of it pressing
down into my bones.
I cannot fly
I cannot fly
birds are just birds, my love.

-Corbyhawk

You create a diversion...

2010-02-14T17:54:00.000-08:00

and the rest of us will take the camera...

2010-02-07T18:18:00.001-08:00

2010-02-07T18:11:00.000-08:00

I have been so uninspired lately- a case of the blahs I suppose. Sorry my posts are not frequent.

George

2010-02-03T17:56:00.001-08:00

is a little mixed up

walking widgeon

2010-02-01T15:23:00.001-08:00

2010-02-01T15:00:00.000-08:00

To reject.
To reject everything.
That is not it.
It will neither resurrect the past nor return me to it.
Sleep, Romeo, Juliet, on your headrest of stone feathers.
I won't raise your bound hands from the ashes.
Let the cat visit the deserted cathedrals,
its pupil flashing on the altars.
Let an owlnest on the dead ogive.
In the white noon among the rubble,
let the snakewarm itself on leaves of coltsfoot and in the silence
let him coil in lustrous circles around useless gold.
I won't return.
I want to know what's left
after rejecting youth and spring,
after rejecting those red lips
from which heat seemed to flow
on sultry nights.

-Czeslaw Milosz

2010-01-31T16:32:00.000-08:00

2010-01-31T16:18:00.000-08:00

The silver swan, who living had no note,
When death approached, unlocked her silent throat,
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more:
Farewell all joys! O death, come close mine eyes;
More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.

Orlando Gibbons

2010-01-24T16:22:00.000-08:00

2010-01-24T16:04:00.000-08:00

I realized when she stood at the door
dressed neatly and perfectly together
hair clipped back, scarf beautifully full around her neck
that I could come in
but never stay

I am not a tame thing I realized
as I noticed the mourning dove cooing
in the big tree above us
I am not all this order and appearance
I am the chaos of the sleeping tree
hair akimbo
uncaring of pants or scarf
shoes hopelessly scuffed from use
I am not what you are used to

You cheated she exclaimed, you cheated
as she ushered me out the door
I turned to say no, I had not
I never broke in on the altar
of gleaming wood floors
and vases full of pink flowers

I will admit in my look
but she cannot see it
that I love him and for a moment
wished I was home
but she closed the red door

silly woman he never lied to you
he has loved you all along
and you have no courage to just be
for me it would have been enough of a gift
to paint the world over

By the Corbyhawk herself.

corby

2010-01-18T16:44:00.000-08:00

2010-01-18T16:37:00.000-08:00

Lin Ling ( 1935- )

Endlessly sinking --
My wings into the waves of your eyes.
How much I hope,
How much I hope,
That we will sink beautifully down,
Into a kingdom forgotten by Apollo,

Where we will walk and leave no footprints,
Just as the rivers there do not rise in the highmountains
But originate in the ocean.
That breeze is no more a breeze.
The wood on the hill is no more
A wood on the hill.
We are no more ourselves.
We are dust.
We are everything.
Yet everything again, all in one brief glance
Will be denied all value.
Oh, how I hope. . . .

I dreamt of you and you decided to start breaking the rules.

2010-01-04T18:01:00.000-08:00

2010-01-04T17:56:00.000-08:00

The world's love runs thin.
Human love turns evil.
Rain strips, in the yellow twilight,
The flowers from the branches.
The dawn wind will dry my tear stains.
I try to write down the trouble of my heart.
I can only speak obliquely, exhausted.
It is hard, hard,We are each of us all alone.
Today is not yesterday.
My troubled mind sways
Like the rope of a swing.
A horn sounds in the cold depth of the night.
Afraid of people's questions,
I will swallow my tears
And pretend to be happy.
Deceit. Deceit. Deceit.

T'ang Wan ( 12th Century)

Long-tailed Duck

2009-12-31T17:41:00.000-08:00

2009-12-31T17:33:00.000-08:00

I Speak Not by Lord Byron

I speak not, I trace not,
I breathe not thy name;
There is grief in the sound,
there is guilt in the fame;
But the tear that now burns on my cheek may impart
The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.
Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace,
Were those hours - can their joy or their bitterness cease?
We repent, we abjure, we will break from our chain, -
We will part, we will fly to - unite it again!
Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt!
Forgive me, adored one! - forsake if thou wilt;
But the heart which is thine shall expire undebased,
And man shall not break it - whatever thou may'st.
And stern to the haughty, but humble to thee,
This soul in its bitterest blackness shall be;
And our days seem as swift, and our moments more sweet,
With thee at my side, than with worlds at our feet.
One sigh of thy sorrow, one look of thy love,
Shall turn me or fix, shall reward or reprove.
And the heartless may wonder at all I resign -
Thy lips shall reply, not to them, but to mine.

a pair

2009-12-29T18:51:00.001-08:00

2009-12-28T16:57:00.000-08:00

Where have I been? In one word living. I have been living- not reaching out to some impossible someone, but sitting here now-knowing the feel of the cold snow around my feet and the whip of the winter air on my face. There is a bliss in the reality of a cold rosy face and the laughter of darkening days. So go live, see the world, drink in everything and enjoy the time you have. I wish I would have done that better when I was around you, enjoying you more for what you are. I got caught up in wanting instead of really being with you then.

2009-12-24T19:08:00.000-08:00

2009-12-24T18:33:00.000-08:00

To those I love
but cannot see
As we greet the dark
ten thousand lights
bring you home
every house a beacon
to show you the way
I wait as the dark unfolds
and the cold winter
sits outside the door

Merry Christmas
don't forget to believe in yourself

-Corby

tundra swans

2009-12-21T17:09:00.000-08:00

2009-12-21T16:53:00.000-08:00

Only what's inmost is near; all the rest is far.
And this Inmost is crowded and every day
filled overfull with everything and past all words.
The island is like a tiny star

-Rainer Maria Rilke -The Island

2009-12-16T16:46:00.000-08:00

I have never been more full but I have never felt so empty.

The usual Sunday wrap-up

2009-12-13T13:33:00.000-08:00

2009-12-11T17:08:00.001-08:00

This about makes my blood boil, some idiot shot a whooping crane!
Unfortunately there are a lot less whooping cranes left than idiots.
http://cs.birdersworld.com/brdcs/blogs/field_of_view/2009/12/09/whooping-crane-shot-reward-offered.aspx

2009-12-11T17:03:00.000-08:00

I got to experience this evening on my way out of the city, walking in the parking lot about 30 crows flew low over me. Then off they went to their roost.
Read about it here:

http://www.baltimoresun.com/news/maryland/bal-md.crows06dec06,0,6457131.story

From the Baby of Macon

2009-12-10T17:26:00.001-08:00

My first subject..so long ago

2009-12-05T19:29:00.001-08:00

2009-12-05T18:45:00.000-08:00

I feel incredibly lucky to know such people, including someone very dear to me, whom I have had the distinct pleasure of seeing two days in a row! Life is so sweet today.

2009-12-04T19:38:00.001-08:00

Don't ever change, you are utterly perfect as you are. I only wish I was the one by your side.

2009-12-02T17:40:00.001-08:00

I know I am better then that...sorry it had to be done.

for old times sake

2009-11-30T17:55:00.000-08:00

2009-11-28T14:47:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-28T14:42:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-26T18:01:00.000-08:00

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

They tell me you have beak envy

2009-11-22T13:36:00.000-08:00

2009-11-22T13:27:00.001-08:00

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