The red berry, hawk's cry and flight into the woods, chilly temperature and foggy rain -- all excite me: I can't wait for fall, and winter, and spring, and summer again, for each unexpected moments of pleasure.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
A Cry
Photographing dogwood berries -- more than I've ever seen on the tree, I heard the telltale cry of a hawk, looked up, and saw him or her perched in my black walnut. I snapped, but the gray sky and jerk of my hand produced only a shaky image, not nearly so bold as the call and call and call to a young one in the woods behind my house.
The red berry, hawk's cry and flight into the woods, chilly temperature and foggy rain -- all excite me: I can't wait for fall, and winter, and spring, and summer again, for each unexpected moments of pleasure.
The red berry, hawk's cry and flight into the woods, chilly temperature and foggy rain -- all excite me: I can't wait for fall, and winter, and spring, and summer again, for each unexpected moments of pleasure.
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