Another bang.
This drum beat
loud and resonant
scattered feathers
the flying swiftly…

Breathing in and breathing out,
waves of thought like wind
rise and fall with the
rhythm of cicadas…

For I cannot tell
the flit of birds through
the flailing leaves
which is which
and who is who…

I must confess, I sing to the trees. They don’t judge. I think the nearby squirrel had something to say, but between her and the dense mist dripping from the trees, all was silent between the notes of my voice. Slowly as I walked, I could hear the distant wash of water over stone, where Burnham Brook babbled and had stories to tell…

I believe there is a reason.

There must be a reason why I can’t remember my birth. My original birth, 14 billion years ago, when all of what would become was thrust forth from the hips of a dot smaller than a pencil’s eraser, or so they say…

With autumn taking hold and the days of lake swimming coming to a close, I met Spider again, quickly climbing up the web among the vegetation that hangs across the small opening where I enter. We must negotiate this again…

Darting right then left, zipping high then low, Dragonfly caught my attention as I ascended the long set of stone stairs to the house. Taken and entranced by the dance, I stopped to notice, to give this creature of water and air my curious and loving attention…